You'll Never Know
by ArieSemir
Summary: Hmm... Finding Harper happily inebriated one night, Beka remembers a time he was in a similar state and ruined for the Maru's crew a very lucrative job opportunity. On her way to Command, she wonders what might've happened... and the story goes from there
1. Finding Harper Happily Inebriated

This is dedicated to lots and lots of people, but I'm going to name Qwerty, cos she really reminded me to get re-started on this a couple of days ago with a very subtle hint   
  
  
...or If Harper Hadn't Drunken Himself Unconscious That Night   
Really, you pick the title you like best   
  
Rating: For now, PG-13...if it ups, I'll warn you before the chapter   
  
Summary: Finding Harper happily inebriated one night, Beka remembers a time he was in a similar state and ruined for the Maru's crew a very lucrative job opportunity. On her way to Command, she wonders what might've happened... and the story goes from there.   
  
Pairing: When I begin to read a fanfic, I know I like to know this, so I'll tell yous-this is a good old-fashioned Tyr/Beka   
  
Spoilers: Except for the first chapter, barely long enough to deserve the name, this is completely AU, so there aren't any spoilers, discounting revelations of past events we might've learned in recent eps. I don't even think there are any of those. Still, I'll set it before S2 finale, cos in the little present Beka there is, she doesn't think about anything dramatic that's happened since then, but it could very well be anytime.   
  
  
Enjoy, read, and REVIEW!!! (or creepy smilies will get you when you sleep!)  
  
I humbly beg your patience as I write this !   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
oh, and there are a few nods and ref's throughout, cos I'm too uncreative to think of some things on my own Gold stars to those who spot them!   
  
  
_Premier!_  
  
  
"Why do you do this to yourself, Harper?" The short blond shielded his eyes as he squinted at the woman speaking.   
  
  
"Aww, this is nothin'," he mumbled. "Just stop shouting, all right?"   
  
  
Beka exchanged a look with the ship's avatar. He'd requested for her to lower her voice twice already, and if she spoke any quieter, he wouldn't be able to hear her. "Thanks, Rommie. Uh, dump him in a corner somewhere; he'll be fine in a few hours."   
  
  
With one last disdainful twist of her mouth, the android nodded and unceremoniously did just that. "I'm glad someone knows what to do with him. I'll see you in Command." Technically, the A.I. was seeing her that very moment, but Beka simply shot a brief smile at the exotic persona.   
  
  
"Hey, boss, isn't she seein' us right now?" Beka looked over her shoulder at the puddle of Harper pooled near her bed. He struggled to pull himself into something resembling a sitting position. It struck her as eerie how he echoed her thoughts at times.   
  
  
"You know, you're lucky we're not on Tanchico Drift, or instead of Rommie, that might've been some cheap hooker who thoroughly investigated your pockets before deciding you weren't worth anything and only brought you back at all because you were scaring away the customers." The sad thing in all this was the situation Beka described was not in the least hypothetical.   
  
  
"Come on, why do you always hafta bring that up?" He moaned pathetically, but Beka suspected the cause to be the level of illumination in her room much more than her words and did not pity him whatsoever.   
  
  
"I bring it up because not only could have been killed, but we had the chance to make an _unbelievably_ huge score. Not _the_ big score," she admitted, "but I could've fixed the Maru once and for all and finally paid off…most of my dad's debts." The Commonwealth gig wasn't helping much in that arena; most of the guys she owed weren't now or ever would be law-abiding citizens of any government.   
  
  
"It's like a freakin' casino here, Beka, think you could turn it down a little? Besides, if we had made the score, you wouldn't have had to look up ol' Gerentex so you could pay off…well…everybody."   
  
  
Beka glared. "Are you telling me it's your fault I had to track down that rat-faced headcase?!"   
  
  
Harper giggled. "I think that rhymed. But look at it this way; it's my fault you met Dylan and the gorgeous-beyond-words Andromeda Ascendant." After an unsteady wave of his hand, gesturing at the walls of that very ship around them, he dozed off in the same state Rommie had found him in Machine Shop Six.   
  
  
Beka threw her hands up. The engineer would claim credit for the Big Bang, given a sliver of a chance. She had a shift in Command soon, but as she left her quarters to make the short journey through Andromeda's corridors, so unlike the Maru's considerably less pristine, she allowed her mind a few minutes to wander. What if Harper hadn't indulged in one of his drinking binges famous enough to have earned a line in _Alehouses to Watering Holes: Barhopping the Best of the Batch_? She'd had to leave that very night, after he'd racked up a tab of a record amount for a single person in a single night with, of course, no way to begin paying it.   
  
  
The fact that he still had a warrant for public lewdness from that misadventure didn't help either. He insisted the woman had practically begged him to perform an impromptu full monty, but pressing charges wasn't the usual mode of expressing such gratitude.   


  
She remembered that night as her feet automatically followed the route to Command she now knew by heart, chuckling and rolling her eyes as she recalled Harper's pleas for permission to visit the Taphouse of Tanchico. Usually, her crewmembers could do whatever they liked on these drift stops, but after the happenings at Malkier, Beka had become a bit more leery of the goings of her crewmates.   



	2. Harper Wishing to Become Happily Inebria...

To clarify just in case someone's a tad confuzzlepated... everything after Beka convinces Harper _not_ to liquor himself up good is what _didn't_ happen but _could_ have. Enjoy! (and remember the smilies... )  
  
_Day One of the Jog Down Memory Lane_  
  
  
  
"But, boss, it was a tragedy of truly… tragic proportions! I think… no, I know ol' Vexpeg would've wanted us to remember him by getting falling-on-our-asses drunk!"   
  
  
Rebecca Valentine rubbed her right temple and rolled her eyes. She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the Maru's few shining clean surfaces and gave a double take, still unused to her golden tresses. For the eighty-seventh time that day, she pondered returning to her former red or possibly trying a darker shade. The thought of Beka Valentine the blonde just unnerved her.   
  
  
Firmly, she pointed her mind back at the conversation with her ship's engineer. She would not turn into one of those women who constantly fretted about their hair (or clothes or makeup) to the exclusion of everything else. "Yeah, I don't think one of your suicidal drinking binges is really what Fred would've wanted. He hated them enough when he was alive." The short man, also blond, with constantly roving blue eyes, protested this description of his all-night flirtations with alcohol poisoning, but Beka bulldozed right over him. "No, Harper, that's what they are, and one day you'll wake up in some cargo bay with nothing but some mutant strain of triangulum measles and an… _excruciating_ hangover, or you won't wake up at all." One of her pet peeves was when people spoke of "waking up dead", and she was careful never to use that nonsensical phrase. "Don't tell me you've forgotten Malkier."   
  
  
She didn't like drudging up the memory of that once-thriving space port any more than Harper liked hearing it, but if he sabotaged this job, he would envy the former inhabitants of that drift. "I know, I know, eleven hundred people kicked the can in the same night—"   
  
  
"'Kicked the can' because someone slipped a little too much perytine-8 into the Weissbrau," Harper bristled at the insinuation of any conceivable flaw of his latest find and most beloved brew to date, but Beka ignored him. "and the only reason you're not several thousand ashes floating in space is that Trance miraculously discovered… something to counteract the drug, and frankly, I don't think doctors knew about that cure at the height of the Systems Commonwealth."   
  
  
At hearing her name, a blur of purple rushed in from Beka's bathroom, nearly delirious over the size of the faux-porcelain, clawed-feet bathtub. "What? Oh, that. I wish I had been able to get to the rest of those poor people in time." Trance lowered her eyes, and, for a moment, Beka thought she saw a shine like tears under long eyelashes.   
  
  
She laid a hand on a velvet-covered shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "But you did get to Harper in time, and I was serious when I said no one else could have pulled that off."   
  
  
Harper caught the look Beka shot him over their shipmate's head and nodded vigorously. "She's right, Trance. You're almost as genius as I am, except with…non-mechanic things." The girl was new to the Maru's crew, but already they'd experience Trance's…skill with machines. Beka almost winced, reminded of the coffee-maker incident. "It was incredibly lucky that you found me at all."   
  
  
Trance's unusual complexion darkened a shade as she blushed self-consciously and shrugged. "I got thirsty."   
  
  
Stranger things had happened, and maybe the tailed girl had a regular habit of padding down to seedy taverns at three in the morning. "Well, I'm glad you did. Now, help me convince Harper not to drink himself into a blind stupor tonight. If we have to leave here at an ungodly hour again because he's racked up yet another tab he can't pay…" Her expression spoke volumes, more than enough even for Harper.   
  
  
"Harper…"   
  
  
Under the eyes of both women, he surrendered. "All right, all right. Besides, the dancing girls here are noted several times in, uh, a 'zine I used to read." He trailed off, suddenly aware of twin raised eyebrows focused on him.   
  
  
"Hmph. Well, these girls won't take anything but thrones, so by all means, go and spend all three in your pocket."   
  
  
Harper rejoiced at the permission to blow his latest earnings on a busty blonde who wouldn't remember him an hour after he left, but Beka had one condition. Trance would have to accompany him on his spending spree, to make sure he didn't accidentally lose his way and wander to the bar, or he'd be staying home with only the late-night holodramas he could afford to keep him company.   
  
  
"No offense to her purple pixiness, but I can't take Trance to Madame Boom-boom's House of--"   
  
  
"Harper! I don't really want to know what witty yet obscene name Miss Boom-boom gave her strip club. Either you bring Trance along, or you can cozy up with whatever Spice Broadcasting is offering in your price range."   
  
  
Trance had opened her mouth to object to Beka's plan, but now her eyes widened. "I always thought that was a cooking channel."   
  
  
Harper choked, and Beka couldn't quite stop a snort of disbelief and amusement from escaping her. "One of their…presentations probably does have cooking."   
  
  
The engineer shook his head. "No, cooking in the buff can be highly dangerous, and they wouldn't want to…" His authoritative tone faded as he realized to whom he was expounding his hard-earned knowledge. He muttered something, and a faint blush overspread his pale features, temporarily bringing them some color. Beka had months ago given up trying to put some meat on the kid's bones; he'd be scrawny if he spent the rest of his life wrapped in swaddling and fed with a silver spoon on a planet that had never even heard of Nietzscheans or the Magog.   
  
  
Harper combed his fingers through his A.G. defying blond spikes, and, tossing Beka one last reproachful glance, sighed melodramatically and called Trance, now inspecting her most recent purchase: a purse that closely resembled some sort of unbearably soft and cuddly creature.   
  
  
Shaking her head ruefully, Beka turned from the pair and stared morosely at the flexis strewn over the small table in from of her without seeing any of them. Yesterday, Rev had departed for a spiritual retreat or mission, and this would be the first time she was without his steady support and gentle counsel since Bobby's final good-bye four weeks ago. Four weeks, six days, and eight hours. She half-heartedly scolded herself for her inability to forget her long-time boyfriend, but after all, theirs had been the longest (and most tumultuous) relationship she'd ever known. At least she could now honestly say that were he to return at that moment, she would find the strength to tell him to leave and just how over they really were. She might—and probably would—stay up half the night regretting it, but she would tell him off.   
  
  
"Not the time to be reminiscing, Valentine. You've got some exciting finances to decipher!" Sadly, her upbeat tone wasn't enough to convince the rest of her that she really did want to spend the night alone, forehead scrunched and eyes squinting as she calculated precisely how much she owed Petite Nabou, the unlikely name of one of this galaxy's scuzziest parts dealers. She knew the amount would just depress her. "All right, we'll compromise. Go down to the bar, order yourself a nice virgin something, make sure Harper doesn't lose Trance and wind up one step from the bright light, and try to work with these unholy numbers."   
  
  
She considered the offer. "Deal. But no dancing with strangers."   
  
  
Beka sighed. "Well…unless they're really cute."   
  
  
"Fine." And that disturbing conversation with herself was over.   
  
  
The night passed uneventfully. Beka was asked a few times to dance, but by no one good-looking enough to pass the 'really cute' muster. She sat in a table near the corner, muttering imprecations at the flexis before her and resigning herself to the San-sa-Samba she hadn't ordered. Occasional glances toward the loud, insanely packed par revealed no Seamus Harper, and she progressed farther on her accounts than she had expected. Contented, she returned to her rented room around one o'clock, her exit noticed by a single man several tables away. Dark eyes had watched her all evening and had nodded approvingly at seeing her sober and productive. If the person the eyes had belonged to had been one of those requesting her presence on the dance floor, she might have accepted, had she not picked out the bone spurs lying flat against black leather bracers.   


  



	3. Without Becoming Inebriated, Harper Lose...

__

What's New   
On Day Two?   


  
  
Beka awoke to a loud thud, an impressive stream of expletives, and a much quieter hushing noise, all emanating from the room next to hers. Ahh, Harper had awakened then. Not hungover, if Trance had managed to keep up with him, but likely he was running on a few grainy hours of sleep and a greatly depleted wallet. Little more than half-awake herself, she threw on a pair of leather pants and a dark golden shirt with long, sheer sleeves and ran a hand through her still newly-blond strands. She squinted at the door through sleep-encrusted eyes for a moment before rediscovering the complex method of turning the knob to open it and bumped to the next door on her right. Gaah, but she hated mornings.   
  
  
When Trance greeted her, bubbly and widely-smiling as ever, Beka suddenly felt a twinge of sympathy for her engineer. The only thing worse than a sleep-deprived night owl before noon was a cheerful [read:insane] morning person within one hundred meters of said night owl. "Hi, Beka! I hope Harper didn't wake you up. He was good last night, but we got in kinda late."   
  
  
'We'. So Trance had kept up with Harper. Beka exhaled, very relieved at this news. "More like kinda early, from what I heard." She furrowed her brow. "And speaking of early, why aren't you dead on your feet like Harper over there?" She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her other crewmate. "Well, dead on his feet if he would get up."   
  
  
From under twisted, once white sheets, Harper called out, "That's easy, boss. Pixies don't need sleep, do they, Trance?"   
  
  
The purple girl laughed shortly. "I-I just don't sleep much." She turned from Beka and returned to her attempts to rouse Harper. Beka watched her gently shake Harper for few moments, chuckling at her utter failure. She crossed through the entryway and tapped Trance on the shoulder.   
  
  
"Let me." She carefully wound a sheet around her right hand and clenched it into a tight fist. "Three, two…" On the final count, she violently wrenched the thin cotton ((A/N: I know, I know, futuristic sheets won't be cotton. Pretend it's something like cotton)) out from underneath Harper, and he tumbled to the worn carpet.   
  
  
"You're a cruel, cruel mistress, Beka. You're lucky you're so freakin' hot, cos you don't pay crap and you're an Uber-grade sadist."   
  
  
"Tough love, Harper. Now get up…and for the love of the Divine, where the hell are your pants??"   
  
  
Trance giggled behind her hand as Harper stood with a sheet draped around him and blearily rifled through his bed coverings. Beka followed Trance's darting eyes and bit back a laugh of her own. Navy blue cargo pants decorated a corner lamp across the room, and in his less-than-alert state, Harper wasn't likely to discover them within a quarter of an hour.   
  
  
"If your pants end up adorning light fixtures when you're not drunk, it's a miracle you come back from happy hour in possession of your underwear."   
  
  
Harper turned and peered around the room. "Light fixture?" When he spotted them, he made a valiant effort to move toward his recovered article of apparel but only succeeded in falling flat on his face.   
  
  
Beka shook her head. "When he's up and decent for public eyes, drag him over to my room, will ya, Trance?"   
  
  
A few minutes passed before a light tap on her door notified her that Harper had found any and all of his clothing and, she hoped, was wearing them. "Come in," she called. Wrinkled but suitable for public appearance, Harper followed a much more brightly-attired Trance.   
  
  
"Hey, Beka, guess what I just noticed??" Trance asked excitedly.   
  
  
Harper groaned. "She's been goin' on about this all morning," he informed her, sotto voce. A spot on his Vedran lettered t-shirt distracted him, and he rubbed at it, frowning.   
  
  
"You've recognized the universe's starkly cold indifference to us and are so scarred by the disillusionment that you're giving up furry purses forever?"   
  
  
Trance cocked her head. "Um, no. I still like my purse." After patting the item hanging at her side, she continued. "We all have the same colored hair now!"   
  
  
Beka blinked. "Except for the pink and purple in yours, Trance. Not that I couldn't," and for a moment, pastel lavender and rose streaked her tresses, "but I'm not sure you'll get Harper to dye his hair pink."   
  
  
A wicked gleam entered Trance's brown eyes as she studied Harper anew. He stared back at her, eyes wide and hands in front of him defensively. "Oh no. Don't even think about it, Trance. Pink hair on the Harper attracts the wrong kind of people."   
  
  
Beka laughed. "Now that I would pay to see. Mostly for blackmail purposes, of course." An insistent rapping on Beka's door cut short any futher repartee. "Yeah." A pause. "Come in already!"   
  
  
A twitchy, olive-colored Chichin slithered into the room. "Rebecca Valentine of the Ooraka Mayru?" She'd personally never worked with the Chichin burdened with the unlikely and unwieldy name Miyk Orbedon dia Toladre Eron, but what she'd heard fit the species's image perfectly. Nothing she couldn't handle.  
  
Harper coughed (or more likely laughed) behind a hand as Beka glared. "That's Captain Valentine of the Eureka Maru, Mr. Eron." If he couldn't even get her name right…   
  
  
"Ah, yes, yes, Captain. I'm afraid I'm not accustomed to seeing such lovely starship captains; it seems you've tied my tongue all in knots…or you will soon enough."   
  
  
Beka felt an overwhelming urge to run into the bathroom and stand underneath a boiling hot shower at the hideous creature's insinuation. "Let's keep this platonic, Mr. Eron. I-"   
  
  
"Please, Miyk."   
  
  
So far, he'd called her Rebecca, mangled the name of her ship, hit on her, and interrupted her. Such a charmer. She suspected she might have a dead Chichin on her hands before long.   
  
  
"So, Mr. Eron, what is the job you need my crewmates and I for?" His gaze at her bed before opening his mouth to answer made Beka shudder. "You know what, how about we go…any place else to discuss this." It was not a question. "All of us," she added hastily.   
  
  
He winked at her. "By all means, Miss…Captain Valentine. My office is-"   
  
  
"Harper, didn't you want to see the bar here?" Trance jumped in. Beka could've kissed her.   
  
  
"Yeah, but last night, Beka… oh…yeah. Yeah, that sounds great, Trance. How about it, boss?" Harper sounded like he was auditioning for a bad detective story, but Beka couldn't have cared less.   
  
  
"The masses have spoken. What do you say, Mr. Eron?"   
  
  
If anything, that greasy smile grew. Probably thinking to ply Beka from her crewmates with a few drinks, horrid thing. "A lovely idea, Rebecca."   
  
  
"Captain."   
  
  
"Of course." Urge to kill, rising…   
  
  
"…it's a standard voluntary abduction. The Duchess Aricia has received threats from someone inside her palace security team, and her subjects are becoming extremely… restless. She inherited the duchy only a year ago, and the local economy is experiencing its worse depression in over a century."   
  
  
Harper tossed back half his Weissbrau and sighed. "Another damsel in distress needing Seamus Zelazny Harper. I tell ya, it's the same story every week, like some kind of adventure holodrama with a studly superhero and his beautiful blond sidekicks."   
  
  
"Yeah, Harper spends all his money, has to borrow from Trance, orders a Weissbrau, and gets delusions of grandeur. Same story." The lavender being smiled as she teased her friend.   
  
  
"Oh, come on, Trance-"   
  
  
"You tell her, boss!"   
  
  
"-Harper always harbors delusions of grandeur."   
  
  
"Big help you are."   
  
  
"Mmm, I love wit in a woman."   
  
  
And I love hair on a man.. "Just tell me when and where, Mr. Eron."   
  
  
A smirk crossed the Chichin's revolting features, and Beka instantly regretted her choice of words. "I'll always have time for a gorgeous--"   
  
  
"The job, Mr. Eron. And that better have been 'a gorgeous Captain'."   
  
  
"Certainly, my golden ray of divine starlight."   
  
  
Beka glared.   
  
  
"Captain."   
  
  
"Thank you. Now, time and place for our rendez-vous with the duchess?"   
  
  
"Two months from yesterday on the fourth planet of the Merriam-Webster system. You may encounter some…resistance once you arrive at the planet, but most of it should be… pacified sufficiently."   
  
  
Beka narrowed her eyes. "My crew and I work alone, Mr. Eron. If that's a problem…"   
  
"Oh, no, Captain. I promise you, this will involve none but the crew of the Maru." Hm. Not quite the assurance she desired, but he did promise only to include her crew. Not that a Chichin's promise meant any more than a Nightsider's, but until he broke his word, she would accept it. "One more item of business, my celestial angel of…Captain," he finished uneasily under her annoyed expression. "If you could delay your preparations until I notify you…it will be but a matter of a few short days, at the most."   
  
  
All right, he could 'celestial angel' her al he wanted, but if he thought he could dictate how she prepped her crew for his job, she'd have to set him straight so fast his green little head unscrewed and spun right off. She told him so, and he hurriedly assured her she'd be on her own very soon.   
  
  
That evening found her viciously taking her aggression out on a helpless punching bag that had never really done anything to her. "…stupid…tell me how to…stupid….I'll golden ray of divine starlight you…stupid….what kind of name is that… stupid…wish Rev was here…stupid…" A cough from a few feet behind her interrupted Beka's articulate critique of her present employer, and she whirled around the face the cougher with such ferocity that the man actually stepped back a pace. Oh, a bad day to interrupt Valentine rantings was this. Her brain noted a very developed physique and forearm bone spurs even as she began a fresh tirade.   
  
  
"Listen, I don't care what special significance this punching bag has for you, but I can count four open right now, and unless you want to stand in its place and promise to hold really still, you can go use one of the others." Usually, Beka made at least a minimal sort of effort to regulate her temper around Nietzscheans (it wasn't a question of bravery of a lack thereof, but more of a survival thing. Surely Ubers would understand that), but this was so not the day.   
  
  
To her surprise and growing irritation, he seemed attempting to hide a smile. And when he spoke, he had the temerity to sound amused. "I would never volunteer for so dangerous a position. If you will allow me, I merely wish to aid you in improving your form. It may prove useful should Mr. Eron decide to attempt more than words."   
  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow. A friendly Nietzschean? _Hello, hell, how's that ice sculpture coming along? _ She began to respond, when she realized something about his statement. "How did you know I was picturing _his_ face on the punching bag?" Was this Uber _stalking_ her? That would just make her day.   
  
  
He chuckled. "You mentioned a 'stupid Chichin' and 'what kind of name is that'. I know of one Chichin with a particularly pretentious string of names-"   
  
  
"Thus spake the Nietzschean," Beka murmured.   
  
  
"-and I've noticed him lurking about this pestilent drift."   
  
  
The mystery grew. A Nietzschean who hadn't yet called her kludge or even genetically inferior and didn't mind her mocking Nietzschean tradition as she interrupted him?? If he wasn't so…massive, she might've wondered if the bone blades were false. Rare, but she'd seen it and stranger. "And what unpretentious string of names would you call yourself?"   
  
  
"Tyr Anasazi of the Kodiak Pride, out of Victoria by Barbarossa." He appeared to watch her closely for a reaction.   
  
  
She generally hated to disappoint large Nietzscheans, but she'd never heard of the Kodiak Pride. "Kodiak, huh? I could say I'm glad you're not a Dragan, but that'd be like saying I'm glad you're not a rabid man-eating lion." She might as well dance in front of him with a big fat 'Your mother was a hamster, your father smelled of elderberries, and I spit upon your genes all the way back to Drago Museveni. Please maim and injure me at your convenience,' sign.   
  
  
He just smiled. "You've obviously mastered the verbal jab. Shall we move on to your uppercut, Miss…?"   


  
"Captain Beka Valentine. Not Rebecca, not your golden ray of divine starlight, and not your celestial angel of…Divine knows what, but I don't want to."   
  
  
"I suppose that exquisite Aphrodite who brought the lights of all the galaxies to illuminate my once-shadowed soul is out of the question?" Ah-ha. The universe had switched tactics and now was trying to rob her of her sanity. Only that could explain this Nietzschean coming dangerously close to flirting with her.   
  
  
"Hey, if you're up to calling me that every time you want to address me, be my guest."   
  
  
Between more words in that velvety baritone and standing much too close to her, even putting his arms around her to adjust the position of her hands, this Tyr Anasazi actually managed to give her some potentially highly useful pointers for defending herself. Just let that puke-colored Chichin try something with Captain Valentine.   
  
  
"Would you think it presumptious of me to purchase a beverage for you?"   
  
  
Buy her a drink?? "Remind me to call up ol' Lucifer and ask him how his ice-cream business is going down there." She shook her head. "No one has ever accused me of turning down non-alcoholic drinks from attractive men." She insisted on handling the drink herself, though, and he looked approving at her paranoia.   
  
  
As they sat at a small table near the bar, he asked her why she only accepted non-alcoholic drinks. "Well, unlike many of my acquaintance, substance abuse has never been a life goal." And that was all she'd say about that. She wasn't about to lay out her entire unsavory past and daddy's little addiction before a complete stranger.   
  
  
For the most part, Tyr directed their conversation, and she soon found herself admitting her now single status and refusing to acknowledge that a very good-looking guy had just asked if she had a boyfriend. Beka Valentine was not ready to start down that road anytime soon.   
  
  
A sneaking suspicion that she was enjoying herself crept up, and as she furiously quelled the notion, she glimpsed Harper staring incredulously at her. "Oh damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN." At Tyr's inquiring look, she elaborated. "That was my Ub…uh…Nietzschean-phobic engineer. You know the type, grew up on Earth, wants to rid to universe of anything with bone blades or includes their parents' names in their own."   
  
  
Tyr understood, of course. He expressed a desire to see her around sometime (much more eloquently than that), and Beka tossed off some quip in return before ducking out to find Harper and hope to convince him that no, he hadn't seen her chatting in a very friendly matter with an Uber.   
  
  
During her search, a shocked Beka Valentine realized that she wanted to see Tyr again, too. 

  


  



	4. In a Story Not Focused on Harper, He's i...

__

Nothin's free   
This day three 

  
  
  
"Don't tell me you're avoiding me by hiding out in my own ship." Beka sat down on her heels behind the open conduit sheltering Harper from her eyes.   
  
  
A sound like electricity arcing from the Maru to her human engineer immediately preceded a muttered curse and a reluctant reply. "No, I'm just tryin' to fix the Maru's back-up systems after we blew out of Tanjong Tohor III." He briefly poked his head out. "You know, when those Sabra Nietzscheans decided to thin out the genetically inferior gene pool." With a significant flash of blue eyes, Harper swung himself back into the conduit, clattering around the Maru with less than his usual… zing, Beka was sure.   
  
  
"Gee, wounded puppy-dog Harper or righteously angry victim of injustice Harper?" Beka's chin dropped to rest in her palm as she spoke under her breath, trying to decide which upset version of her crewmate she preferred. Preferred, or at least made her want to scream slightly less. An image passed through her mind, and a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "A conniving Jaguar Nietzschean or an insane, murderous Dragan?"_ I'll take the friendly and very attractive Kodiak, thank you._  
  
  
Trance looked at her inquisitively as she passed her with a Sparky Cola. "What do dragons have to do with Harper?"   
  
  
Beka tilted her head to look up at the crouching girl. She began to explain but changed her mind when she saw Trance's confusion. "Just… don't mention them around our resident mechanical wonder."   
  
  
Trance shrugged and ducked into the conduit. "I don't see what big, fire-breathing lizards have to do with anything, but okay."   
  
  
Beka thoughtfully watched her crawl away. It was beginning to occur to her that Trance's innocent, bordering on ditzy, personality was laid on a bit too thickly to be real. Her medical abilities hadn't ceased to amaze Beka from the first time she had, for all intents and purposes, brought Harper back from the dead after a particularly nasty firefight with—_You guessed it_, she thought wryly--a band of the universally beloved _homo sapiens invictus_. Slavers, to be specific, which really didn't narrow the field much.   
  
  
She tapped her fingers against her cheek. "I bet she has some kind of… magical healing touch… like Midas, except she gives life to things instead of turning them into gold." Tap-tap-tap. "Hmm. Too bad she doesn't turn 'em into thrones or guilders." She chuckled and stood up. "Or Dragan eagles." Her eyes darted to the open conduit, and she hoped Harper hadn't heard. "Beka, you're heartless." She'd try to get 'round to Harper later, but she wouldn't be much of a success if she was giggling over Dragan eagles.   
  
  
"Ugh, guilders and eagles and thrones. Oh crap." The infernal accounts waited.   
  
  
Knowing almost word-for-word how Harper would respond, she called out into the conduit, asking if he was sure he was okay? Yeah, he was fine, he'd probably be awhile cos Nietzscheans were right up there with Kalderans and Ogami on the top five blowers-up of P.O.S space freighters list.   
  
  
"All right, Harper, if I give you free rein of the bar and buy you… three cases of that caffeinated cavity-inducer you bravely ingest, will you drop the casual Uber references to, say, one per conversation?"   
  
  
A sooty blond head materialized beside her and grinned. "Four cases, two a conversation, and it's a deal."   
  
  
Beka sighed melodramatically. "Yeah, yeah, go fix something already."   
  
  
He retreated, but words continued to float up to her. "It's not that I've forgiven you, boss, but the Sparky should help me as I, uh, struggle endlessly, day and night, to repair the critical damage inflicted by the angry hordes of rampaging Ubers."   
  
  
A few years ago, those laughing words might've been silence or a few sullen assurances that he was fine. When he first spotted her chatting with Tyr, she had fervently prayed he wasn't going to withdraw into the shell he used to build up around himself in the old days, when they had to work for a Nietzschean or a slaver. He hadn't, or not for long, and Beka returned to her accounts with a light heart.   
  
  
He good mood mostly vanished by the time she was face to face with the dreaded flexis, and she spent the next hour organizing her music collection, first by artist's name, then album name, and lastly by color of the disc. "I should get food. Who can work on an empty stomach, anyway?" But the lazy bug had bitten Beka Valentine, and she opted to order room service. While she waited, she flipped through the holodramas currently broadcasted and settled on an action/adventure/romance flick just beginning. She told herself she was in it solely for the action and adventure.   
  
  
She let her mind submerge into a coma as she ate a supposedly home-made vegetable soup and "hand-baked" biscuits and stared vacantly at the flickering screen. By the time it finished (and Beka wouldn't have admitted it under torture, but a few salty drops may have escaped from the corners of her eyes) and Harper had arrived, scrubbing suspiciously at his own eyes, Beka had given up even a pretense of attempting to put her accounts in order.   
  
  
Trance entered as the credits began to roll and looked at the pair with concern. "Are you guys okay?"   
  
  
Harper straightened with alacrity, and Beka hastily turned to set her plate on a small table, both claiming a sudden increase of dust in the air. Trance smiled knowingly and shook her head. "So what's the plan for tonight?"   
  
  
Harper's eyes sparkled. "Well, Beka so graciously, uh, bestowed upon me permission to consume a pint or two at the local pub."   
  
  
"Basically, Harper's gonna get smashed. The question is if you want to come along and laugh with me at the hilarious antics of an intoxicated mudfoot. It has sitcom potential."   
  
  
Trance wrinkled her nose. "No thanks. Last time, like half a dozen people asked me if I wanted to learn the horizantal tango," she looked from Harper to Beka, puzzlement evident in her big eyes, "and I don't think they meant on a dance floor."   
  
  
Beka's eyes narrowed as she hefted the gun on her belt. "Let them try that again, and I'll make `em dance." She glared at the door, ready to hunt down the elusive "they" right then and there, before resheathing her weapon. "Okay, you can stay here and do… whatever it is you do in your free time." She studied Trance closely, as if determined to decipher her habits, place of origin, and true identity by sheer will. "I hear there are some nice gardens around here somewhere, although personally, I can't see anything growing in a place like this."   
  
  
Harper let out a jubilant woo-hoo but was cut short by his captain. "And before you give yourself a hernia, ask yourself if there's any way in hell I'm about to let you drink yourself brainless."   
  
  
"Boss, you promised-"   
  
  
"I know what I said, Harper, and I'll keep my word." She grimaced. "I'm going to go with you."   
  
  
If she thought this would deflate Harper's enthusiasm, Beka found herself sadly mistaken. "Hey, that's a great idea! We can bond over Weissbrau, singing Old Earth drinking songs and dancing on the tabletops." The look in his eyes said he was envisioning that horrific picture as he spoke.   
  
  
Trance smothered a giggle, but her eyes danced. Beka winced at the image. "Harper, I don't drink, I don't sing drinking songs, and I definitely don't-" a memory of Caspian Drift surfaced, "-um, never mind."   
  
  
Harper's jaw dropped. "Oh man, and I missed this??" His expression morphed from incredulous to suggestive. "Perhaps you'll care to, uh, honor us with a repeat performance." He waggled his eyebrows.   
  
  
_Why do I even talk around him?_ "I doubt it. Now hurry up before I regain my sanity and lock you in here for the night."   
  
  
Harper scampered out, and Trance settled herself on the seat Beka had recently vacated. "Can I order something in?"   
  
  
Beka combed her fingers through her hair and abruptly stopped herself. She certainly wasn't going down there to look for someone. "Sure Trance. Just try to keep it… reasonable." She resisted an urge to change into something fitting for a night out, severely telling herself that she was only going at all to keep an eye on Harper. "Aw, who am I kidding? There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good, is there?"   
  
  
Trance glanced up from the holoscreen. "You're always pretty, Beka." She smiled warmly, and Beka couldn't help returning the gesture. Gee, shucks.   
  
  
When she emerged from her bathroom in her usual leather pants and a form-fitting navy blue-and-black shirt with laced-up slits down the sides and sleeves cut below the elbows, Harper was back and bouncing up and down in excitement. He sported a painfully bright button-up shirt with colorful blobs she supposed were meant to depict tropical flowers and birds over a white tee and khaki cargo pants. His hair stood at angles crazier than normal, a remarkable feat of physics. He whistled when he saw her. "I'll have the hottest girl in the place on my arm."   
  
  
Beka rolled her eyes, but the compliment warmed her. "As if she'd have anything to do with you." She grinned affectionately to soften her words, and when he held out his elbow to her, she took it.   
  
  
After threatening to spin her out on the dance floor when a "good song" came on, Harper drifted toward the bar. She bit her lip and didn't quite suppress a giggle at the thought of a more-than tipsy Harper dancing. It wouldn't be the first time she'd witnessed that spectacle, but it never failed to amuse her. One of these times she would have to record it for posterity or blackmail.   
  
  
"Oh, I almost forgot." She made her way to the bar after Harper and draped an arm around his shoulders. "Hey, Harper!" she chirped. "I found a little… snafu in our accounts." She batted her eyes at the bartender and smiled winningly. "It turns out we owe the Drago-Kazov empire, um, three thousand guilders." The man washing out glasses blanched and glared menacingly at Harper. "Well, that's all. Have fun!" He spluttered something to the bartender as he decided to deny Harper a tab, and cackling evilly, Beka left to seek out a low-stakes poker game.   
  
  
People clustered around the higher-end games, shouting encouragement for one player or another, but high rollers generally avoided common saloons; competitions with antes of only a few thrones were much more profuse. Beka shouldered her way through the crowd gathered around one such table, and a familiar face half-smiled at her from the dealer's chair. Tyr Anasazi looked like the sort who could afford more expensive wagers, but there he was, sitting amongst scruffy freighter pilots like Beka and louder, raucous guns for hire. He leaned over to a fellow player and whispered something, nodding in her direction. She was not blushing at the attention, not even when the man rose scowling, and Tyr waved her over to the seat beside him. A very meager pile of chips lay at the empty place, and she started to call the player so he could claim his winnings, but Tyr shook his head and indicated that she should sit.   
  
  
Well, something had happened there, though Beka had no idea what, and she couldn't very well leave now. She smoothly picked up where the game had paused, and soon her pile had grown to a very admirable size. She lost often enough that no one could reasonably suspect her of cheating (or Tyr of cheating for her, she thought, determinately without a flush of the cheeks), but she had a natural flair for poker. That, and the players were all men, and Beka had an equal talent for distraction. Tyr wasn't distracted, of course; his was the largest pile, but no one accused the Nietzschean of cheating. Even while most humans hated Nietzscheans, many held them in a sort of awe, believing them capable of deeds beyond the power and comprehension of mere mortals. Beka had no such illusions--they might be faster, stronger, and some of them smarter, but they were human when it came down to basics, for better but mostly worse.   
  
  
She leaned forward and dropped her chips into the pile, one by one, to allow maximum gaping time and exposure. Tyr deftly dealt the cards, giving her an amused look that said he knew exactly what she was doing with all the leaning here and there. She glanced pointedly at her red, white, and blue pile, and shrugged innocently. After a quick sweep of her cards, she crossed her arms under her chest and pretended to consider her next move. Had she been a man, her fellow poker-philes would've called loudly for her to make her mind up already, but none of them argued now. She dropped three cards and slid them back to Tyr. "Hit me." A suppressed mirth shone in her eyes as callous suggestions from onlookers told her how she could hit them. Tyr shook his head but gave her the cards. "Don't knock it, superman," she said in low voice as she smiled mischievously. She won the round and threw the Nietzschean an unspoken I-told-you-so.   
  
  
"Hot damn, Beka! You could buy a round for th'house eight times over wi'that," a voice exclaimed from behind her, the hopeful tone as obvious as a Than at a Perseid clambake. Beka realized that either he didn't recognize the Nietzschean at the head of the table or he didn't care, and either way, she was relieved.   
  
  
"Yes I could, and no I won't, Harper," she shouted over the din, her eyes never leaving her cards. This wasn't a very promising hand, but she could stand to lose sometime pretty soon. "Have you run out of thrones?"   
  
  
"Beka, I'm wounded. Can' a guy just come see his boss kick some Uber ass without th'Spanish Inkiz… inky… without all the questions?"   
  
  
Tyr seemed perfectly unruffled by the small engineer's words, and Beka would've bet every last chip of hers that he'd heard. In fact, she could've sworn a tiny smile flitted across his almost too-perfect features. _Too perfect… what a fault to have_, she laughed to herself.   
  
  
"See, tha's why she's winnin'," Harper addressed the people he had shoved between. "She must be psychic, seein' the future and everything." He nodded seriously before shifting his focus back to her. "You see, Beka, I was jus' about to run outta thrones, and I thought maybe my gen'rous, wonnerful, bevenolent boss might wanna share hers with her eternally hard-workin' engineer."   
  
  
Well, she'd lost that hand as soon as Tyr dealt it anyway. "You all don't mind if I slip on out, do you?" She looked each of the other players in the eye, smiling shyly and biting her underlip. "You know how a tipsy mudfoot can be." They hastened to assure her that they didn't mind in the least, and Tyr just gave her that eloquent half-smile again.   
  
  
She carefully wove her way out of the crowd. "Harper, you've known me for how many years?" she asked sweetly.   
  
  
"Gee, boss, this's really great of you_"   
  
  
"Of course I won't."   
  
  
"I can't tell you how much… what?" His bottom lip quivered, and he begged and pleaded pathetically.   
  
  
Beka couldn't much more of his wheedling. "All right Harper," she began in her little-kid and small-animal voice, "if you can walk in a straight line for… fifteen seconds… I'll buy you all the Weissbrau you can suck down."   
  
  
His face brightened. "Tha's easy! Jus' watch." Steadying himself, Harper took a deep breath and held his tongue tightly between his teeth, concentrating as hard as she'd ever seen. He tottered in a rough half-circle and beamed. "See? Bring on th' Weissbrau!" Turning an about-face toward the bar, he fell promptly onto his face.   
  
  
Beka bit a thumbnail to keep from laughing at the seemingly boneless and lifeless pile of Harper on the peanut-shell strewn floor. Irritation died away, overcome by pity, and she knelt to pull him to back to his feet. It turned out to prove quite a challenge, and she contented her conscience by precariously leaning him against a wobbling table.   
  
  
"Thanks, boss. Guess I won' be gettin' th'Weissbrau after all, huh?" He looked downcast for a second, but the next song to blare through the noise of the packed room revived his mood. " 'Member you promised to dance with me!"   
  
  
Beka couldn't decide whether to wince or laugh. "Yeah Harper, I vaguely recall saying something unbelievably insane like that. Am I to presume you're planning to carry out your threat in the immediate future?   
  
  
He laughed. "Threat. Did anyone tell you you're really funny, boss?" He giggled, in very great danger of losing what little balance remained to him.   
  
  
"All the time."   
  
  
Somehow, he managed to bring himself fully upright, and Beka was pleasantly surprised to discover he could dance much more easily than he could walk, though admittedly, not much better. But then again, she'd always known he couldn't dance. In spite of his ineptitude and freely wandering hands, she couldn't remember any time recently she'd enjoyed herself this much, and she only slapped his hands away minimally.   
  
  
"Excuse me, Master Harper," a deep voice intoned, "but would you mind terribly if I cut in?"   
  
  
Harper blearily lifted his gaze from Beka's… eyes to stare in complete mystification at the stranger addressing him. "How d'you know my name?"   
  
  
Beka knew the voice instantly, and she breathed deeply to keep from reddening. How the hell did he manage to look sexy when she couldn't even see him? And when was the last time Beka Valentine had blushed anyway??   
  
  
"I heard your lovely and very forebearing captain call you by name earlier."   
  
  
Harper pulled his eyes from the Nietzschean. "Beka?"   
  
  
She scooped a handful of chips up from the table where she'd deposited them and pressed them into Harper's hand as she disengaged herself from his embrace. "Here, go pass out amid your new friends and your beloved Weissbrau." He peered into his hands and smiled crookedly.   
  
  
"Um, you gotta go cash `em in first, you know."   
  
  
A perplexed look crossed his face. "Cash… oh, `course I know, boss." He stumbled away, darting quick glances back at her every so often and muttering something about Beka being psychic after all.   
  
  
Tyr placed a hand in the curve of her waist and guided hers to his shoulder before taking her other hand in his. Apparently determing the distance between them to be too great, he took a step forward and tightened his grasp on her. He was silent as they slowly traversed the room, and before Beka could decide that she could spend days wrapped up in his strength and intoxicating masculine scent, she confided to him that they were moving way off beat.   
  
  
His lips quirked. "If you don't object, I don't." She had the feeling his dark, piercing eyes could read every whimsical, lusty, and unsure emotion he inspired in her.   
  
  
"Er, not at all."_ Very witty, Beka. And maybe next time we could try a complete sentence! _  
  
  
He removed his hand from her side, but Beka thought she would feel its warmth there for weeks. She was startled when he cupped his fingers under her jaw and stroked his thumb softly down her cheek. "I'm not quite… accustomed to this either, Rebecca." Much to her surprise, she didn't feel the slightest desire to correct him. He spoke her name the way Rev sometimes spoke of the Divine. "Among my people, the female chooses the male, and there is none of this… chasing."   
  
  
_Oh Divine, you don`t have to chase me. _The thought shocked her with its intensity, and she frowned inwardly. _And who else made us feel this way? Could it be the man who made you wonder if it was worth it to go on at all??_ She ignored her internal bickering. "Among mine, the chasing is the best part."   
  
  
He bent his head toward her, and for a moment, Beka was sure he was going to kiss her. When he was close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheeks, he seemed to shake himself, and he set his hand back on her waist. _And now we're just confused._


	5. Harper Has Become Inebriated and Again H...

There's a special lil' ref. in here! Guess it and get extra gold stars !

__

Even the score  
When comes the Day Four   
(okay so these aren't making sense anymore)  
  
  
Beka awoke in a curled ball on the loveseat near the bedroom window. It had always seemed an awfully small room to contain a loveseat, aside from the customary bed, and the window looked out onto a solid grey wall. Harper was sprawled on the bed, a corner of a soggy pillow in his mouth and again, without his pants. She wondered if little green men snuck in his rooms at night and slipped them clean off Harper. Her memory of the night before had remained quite clear, and the last she'd seen Harper, he was in no condition to work the tiny buttons or snaps or whatever held up his pants. A delicious aroma of cooking food cut through her musing and told her where Trance might be found.   
  
  
"If she keeps ordering up sustenance, we'll go broke before we even begin prepping, and I'll have to do something disgusting, like voluntarily speak to that thoroughly creepy Chichin again." She stood, sleepily straightened the worst wrinkles in her clothing, and padded out into the suite's adjoining room. The day they'd arrived at Tanchico, Beka had discovered what must have been a mix-up; she was paying the rate for a single room while staying in a suite. Trance and Harper shared a room with two double beds, and she had shelled out only the minimal fee for an extra body. Renting two rooms was cheaper than renting three, obviously, and she wouldn't squeeze all three together unless they really did owe the Drago-Kazov empire three thousand guilders. Harper and Trance both delighted in the arrangement, and in any case, they spent much of their time in Beka's sitting...or living... or parlor room. Whatever the damn thing is called!   
  
  
"Trance, why is Harper unclothed and more importantly, in that state of undress in my bed"   
  
  
The elfin girl held a gargantuan plate scrambled eggs and fragrant bacon, and Beka surreptitiously wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Oh, well, this morning he came back pretty, um..."   
  
  
"Wasted?"   
  
  
"...yeah. He was playing that really annoying game of his, ding dong ditch...except he was forgetting the ditch part." In her mind's eye, Beka could very well see Harper standing in front of complete strangers, grinning moronically at them, around three o'clock in the morning as they asked him what the hell he wanted.   
  
  
"Luckily," she continued, "most of the rooms were empty." Trance opened a cupboard Beka hadn't even noticed earlier, and the starship captain goggled when she realized the purple girl had prepared the breakfast entirely by herself. There was a kitchen in this place, too?? Eggs and bacon filled a smaller, white plate, and Trance handed it to Beka along with a fork. "Here you go!"   
  
  
Beka took a cautious bite, and then her face relaxed. "Trance, I didn't know you could cook." A sample of the bacon convinced her of her genius in hiring the mysterious, sparkly being to her motley crew. 

__

"I can cook too," he rumbled, brushing a misplaced strand of gold behind Beka's ear. "You'd be surprised at the skills one acquires in my line of work." The song had changed several times, but their slow, winding dance persisted through the shifts in tempo and mood. Beka couldn't have guessed the time had her life depended on it, and she guiltily remembered that she had no idea where Harper had disappeared to. She tried to look over the Nietzschean's shoulder, but he was simply too tall. They reached a corner of the dim room, and as Tyr gently but irresistibly pulled her in a new direction, she swept her eyes around the bar. Crowded still, any of the taller patrons might shield a slumped Harper from her vision...or he might have left an hour ago.   
  
  
Tyr, who could spot the cut edges of the label on a bottle of whiskey in this half-light from across the room, (exposing the bartender's as-of yet successful attempt to peddle the cheap swill at an exorbitant rate), could see she was concerned and inquired as to the source of her disquietude.   
  
  
Divine save her, he was sexy, and he knew big words. "My engineer. The one who, uh, bolted when he first spotted you talking to me and insulted you earlier tonight." Her tone could have dried the water planet of Gigarotte in a matter of seconds. "What is this highly educational vocation of yours, anyway?"   
  
  
He ignored her query. "I believe he left a quarter of an hour ago, grinning and cackling to himself about...ding dong ditch?" His expression at the point was priceless. 

Beka moaned. "If he gets me kicked out of that room, I swear I will slip to Earth tonight and drop him off in the middle of that human ghetto he loves to reminisce about when he's smashed out of his gourd."   
  
  
Tyr laughed, a shockingly warm sound from that powerful, threatening exterior. "Out of his gourd, Captain Valentine? And precisely, what gourd would that be?"   
  
  
Inexplicably finding uproarious, Beka couldn't think of anything to say and for once, didn't feel the lack of words. She laughed right along with this Nietzschean, who likely called humans 'kludges'; to their faces when angry, probably grew up with slave laborers, fully supported the system, and had taken a few himself while quelling one of the too-common uprisings. No, she wonderingly found herself insisting, she couldn't believe that of him. Well, about calling annoying humans kludges, she could. Hell, she called 'em (them...us...whomever) worse on less provocation. 

This time he didn't experience a change of heart at the last minute, and his lips were on hers before she could gather her wits and ready herself. To Beka's utter lack of surprise, he kissed magnificently, and unlike many of her acquaintances from awkward years past, he didn't try to engage her in a vigorous round of tonsil hockey. Just as the kiss began heating to a fever pitch, he captured her bottom lip with his teeth and slowly, sensuously pulled back until he could look down on her again with his by-now trademark half-smile. She was sure he was observing the most astonished, disconcerted, completely floored, and very simply stunned woman this side of Tarn-Vedra.   
  
  
"Beka?" His voice was strangely high-pitched. "Are you okay?"   
  
  
Beka's head jerked up as it dawned on her that Trance, not Tyr, had called her name. "Uh, yeah Trance, I'm… good here. And you? You… good there?" The rest of that flashback had transpired, just a few hours ago, and when she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, she detected a savor that was neither eggs, nor bacon, nor the toothpaste she'd automatically slathered on whenever she had finally stumbled in this morning.   
  
  
Trance lowered her eyes to the larger plate of breakfast in her hand. "Not really. Something's not right here, Beka," she replied in a tremulous voice Beka had never heard from her crewmate. For an instant, brown eyes met blue, but they dropped before Beka could read anything in them. "I don't know what." Her voice was the tiniest bit defensive now, but in the next sentence, resignation overwhelmed everything. "But something is..." she inhaled deeply, then exhaled deliberately, as if steadying herself, "it's all wrong."  
  
  
"If this is wrong," a voice from an unseen throat declared, "then lock me up for life, cos baby, I don't wanna be right!" Harper, of course. He winced immediately upon entering the sunny kitchen.  
  
  
Trance looked back down at the plate she held, and when she raised her gaze again, that hopeless shadow had passed. Beka could hardly believe she'd heard those foreboding words when she saw Trance smile brightly and ration some of the eggs and bacon on another plate for Harper.  
  
  
He squinted at the cream-colored dish. "Am I just being paranoid, or is this from the same purple pixie who managed to take out every single light on the Maru simultaneously while trying to make coffee?"  
  
  
Beka swatted him. "Hey, be nice or no breakfast." She moved to snatch the plate from his hnd, but he drew it swiftly back to his chest.  
  
  
"Come on, you wouldn't deprive you favorite engineer of your magnificent creation, would you, Trance?" He widened his eyes, and his voice took on something of a pleading tone.  
  
  
Trance laughed. "It's okay, Beka. I can hardly change a lightbulb, and Harper couldn't fix toast to save his life." The named sputtered but chose not to refute Trance's very accurate statement.  
  
  
Beka handed her own breakfast back to Trance half-eaten, and Trance inquired if something was wrong with it, those big, brown eyes staring up at her from that childlike face. Beka almost fell over herself assuring her that everything was perfect. "We're meeting with our slightly creepy and very obscene employer today, and I'm afraid if I eat much, I'll just lose it all over him."  
  
  
"You know, boss, I'm sure if you agreed to a little, uh, time alone with our _paying- in- cash_ Chichin, we'd all find our salaries doubled. Considering the incredible hotness of our kind, generous, always-lookin'-out-for-her-crew captain, he might even triple it." As he spoke, bits of yellow spilling from his mouth, Harper waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
  
Beka turned from Trance and walked slowly toward her engineer, a murderous glare behind her blue eyes. "Trance," she said quietly, her gaze locked on Harper, "unless you want to stick around or the slow and _highly_ painful execution of one Seamus Zelazny Harper, I would suggest you run downstairs and let the manager here know he's about to have a mess on his hands."  
  
  
Harper yelped and backed away, brandishing a fork defensively. "All right, all right, no one-on-one with El Jefe." Trance looked from Harper to Beka and back uncertainly. Before Beka could reply that he was forgiven (or take his utensil and rearrange him into a Cubist painting), he went on the offensive. "And speaking of guys wanting to, um, get to you know you better, Beka, what's with that huge-even-for-an-Uber Uber mackin' on you last night?"  
  
  
Beka opened her mouth and closed it again. Damn. "Oh, you know. Probably some merc trying to get close to me only to off me in a few weeks."  
  
  
Trance's voice rose, quick and higher than usual. "This Nietzschean, Beka, what was his name?"   
  
  
To her dismay, Harper deigned to answer for Beka. "Nothin' out of the ordinary—tall, dark, and bladed. He must've been, like, seven feet tall with these dreads hangin' halfway down his back and wearing some seriously itchy-lookin' chainmail."  
  
  
"It was nothing," Beka said hastily. "We played poker and danced a little." She hoped he wouldn't recall seeing their work-out session a couple of days earlier. Not that she had anything to hide, but Harper could be… touchy about some things. "Anyway, we're supposed to meet Mr. So Not Getting Into My Pants pretty soon." Looking her crewmates up and down, she sighed. "Harper, find some pants."  
  
  
As Harper scrounged for an article of clothing with which he could cover his bottom half, a heavy knock interrupted Beka asking a suddenly mysterious Trance what she had meant, that something was wrong.  
  
  
Beka grimaced mid-sentence. "I'm going to find out what you were talking about, Trance, but right now, I must somehow find it in me to harness the urge that begs me to make the universe a better place and rid it of that Chichin's existence." Trance gave her a tiny smile.   
  
  
Just before Beka opened the door, she paused and regarded Trance. "And since when does he know my room number??"  
  
  
Harper skidded in as Beka reluctantly opened the door, and, for several minutes, chaos ruled the scene.  
  
  
"Mr. Eron, how did--"  
  
  
"Captain Valentine, my delicious Venus of--"  
  
  
"Mr. Eron!"  
  
  
"Hey, Beka, what's he--"  
  
  
"Tyr?!"  
  
  
"Rebecca, Mr. Harper--"  
  
  
"Captain Valentine, are you already--"  
  
  
"From last night, boss, it's the--"  
  
  
"Harper!"  
  
  
"I see you're not only beautiful, but--"  
  
  
"Mr. Eron!!"  
  
  
"Miyk, please, Re--"  
  
  
"Captain Valentine, _Mr. Eron_!"  
  
  
When she heard Beka gasp Tyr's name in astonishment, Trance's eyes flew open, and she repeated the name to herself in a whisper.  
  
  
Only the Nietzschean heard the elfin girl breathe his name, and when he turned to examine her, he noticed a peculiar and very puzzled expression on her violet-complected countenance. He lowered his voice to escape the ears of those arguing around him. "How do you know my name, girl?"  
  
  
Her brown eyes reflected the questions he felt. "I… I must have heard it somewhere. M-maybe from Beka."  
  
  
Her fluster_ might_ simply be a result of a large, unknown, and possibly angry Nietzschean addressing her… but he doubted that. Did the girl (what in Drago's name was she?) know something she shouldn't? He made a mental note to keep and eye on her, then returned his attention to the cacophony of voices rising and falling sharply.  
  
  
Beka rubbed her head and waited for the babble to die down. It did, eventually, and when silence reigned once more, she fixed her eyes on the Chichin. "Mr. Eron. Without any poetry, accolades, or calling me anything else than 'Captain Valentine', could you _please _explain to me… explain to us why you wanted to meet with us this early and why _he's_ tagging along with you?" She indicated Tyr with a toss of her head and grinned inwardly at the thought that he probably wasn't used to anyone referring to him as the guy just tagging along.  
  
  
"My Titanian temptress…"  
  
  
She coughed.  
  
  
"…Captain Valentine," he continued smoothly, "I simply wished to let you and your crew know that you may begin your preparations any day you desire. This, as you appear to already know," Doubt filled his obsequious voice for a moment, then disappeared. "is Tyr Anasazi, and he has graciously agreed to aid you on your mission."  
  
  
Beka's eyebrows climbed her forehead. "Oh he has, has he??" Behind her, Harper moaned softly. Mess with Beka's crew or ship, and you found yourself up the Milky Way without a towel. "And what gave you or him the idea that I wouldn't kick either of you out an airlock the moment one tried to interfere with my crew's business?!"  
  
  
For his part, Tyr just nodded to himself and glanced over at Miyk. He'd warned Tyr that the woman was protective of her ship, but if they couldn't work something out, Tyr wasn't about to risk his health for this job. People like her protected their ships and crews like Nietzschean women protected their children.   
  
  
"Dearest Captain Valentine, I promised you that only the Mayrah's crew--"  
  
  
"That's the Maru's crew."  
  
  
"Yes, that solely her crew would be involved. All I'm asking is that just for the duration of this mission, you… take on this one extra crewmate. He will prove invaluable when the time comes to extract the Duchess."  



	6. Harper, for Once, Does Not Ponder Inebri...

The end of the last post here just in case you don't feel like going back to remind yourself where we were...  
  
  
the Icky Chichin speaking to Beka, addressing her questions as to Tyr's presence...  
  
  
"Yes, that solely her crew would be involved. All I'm asking is that just for the duration of this mission, you… take on this one extra crewmate. He will prove invaluable when the time comes to extract the Duchess."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Author's Note: As I typed this, I had to look up a synonym for the word suspicious or suspiciously in my thesaurus... and as I was talking to myself, I realized "suspicious in the thesaurus" could make quite a tongue-twister. Say it ten times fast and tell me how it goes.  
  
Well, I'm well into the next part already, though I really can't say when to expect it. I think, boys and girls, this actually may finish sometime... relatively soon! You know, before the next millenium rolls around, at least.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
The pieces began clicking together in Beka's head. "Tell me again just how _voluntary_ you're planning for this extraction to be?"  
  
  
Her employer hastened to assure her the operation would proceed exactly as he had told them.  
  
  
By this time, Harper had decided he too objected to the new change of plans. He pushed past Beka and placed himself square in the Chichin's sickly green face. "Yeah, so you think we can't handle a _voluntary_ extraction on our own, is that it? That we kludges don't know what to do with ourselves without our genetic superiors holding our hands? Huh? Or are you afraid we'll two-time you--take the money and run? Well, I got news for you, you scaly--"  
  
  
"Harper." Beka didn't quite have the heart to yell at him. The situation definitely felt more than little off to her, and she wasn't even the one who had been raised on Nietzschean cruelty and manipulation.  
  
  
Irritation flared briefly in mud-colored eyes but quickly died away. "Of course not, Mister Harper. My only concern is that her subjects may not be eager to let Aricia off the planet. Many of them have fallen into a state of abject poverty since she took control of the duchy, and although she has already suffered tremendously at the hands of her people, they will likely wish to exact even greater revenge upon her."  
  
  
Beka stifled a groan as Harper burst into another tirade. "So we're rescuing some incompetent high-and-mighty who only got the job because daddy died and left it to her, and then found out she couldn't hack it, so now maybe her _subjects_ just want to get a little of what she stole back to them?" Beka suspected there was no right answer to that one.  
  
  
At this, Trance dashed forward and, to the astonishment of everyone present, began mercilessly scolding Harper. It was quite the picture, this elf-like sprite backing the spiky-haired engineer up against the doorjamb, her eyes narrowed and his as wide as saucers. The three uninvolved could only stare.  
  
  
"Did you ever stop and think that maybe she tried her best, that maybe she didn't _ask_ for that responsibility but did as much as she could when it was forced upon her? You know, she could be a really great person, Harper, and you would condemn her just like everyone else has done instead of listening to her side and maybe even feeling a little compassion for her."  
  
  
Nothing but absolute silence could follow that diatribe, but someone eventually would have to say _something_.  
  
  
"Um, all right, then. We're agreed that we a_re_ going ahead with this job?" Beka looked to her crewmaters, Trance looked to Harper, and Harper looked abashed. "Good." She eyed the Chichin warily but realized she'd just given her final agreement to the job. Damn. She furrowed her brow and glanced over at Trance, calm and content once more. She blinked at a strange thought that passed through her head, and shook it briefly.  
  
  
"Excellent, Captain Valentine." Ha. No more wheedling and 'celestial angel' now that he had what we wanted. "I shall leave you and Mr. Anasazi to become more closely acquainted... though not too closely, I hope, my alluring Amazon." Ugh.  
  
  
"Lovely. Now go." And go he did, leaving the party of four a bit awkward for a few moments.   
  
  
"Re-Captain Valentine, please believe me," Tyr finally said, "I had no idea you were the woman Mr. Eron spoke of when he hired me. I _did_ suspect it might be you, when he prattled unceasingly of your..." He had the decency not to finish that sentence, Beka noted, his circumspection a welcome relief from the Chichin's sickening flattery. "But it was only this morning that he came to me, and I hope you will acquit me of any notions of duplicity."  
  
  
Beka waited a second for Harper to break in with a typical anti-Nietzschean invective, but as he opened his mouth and began to step forward, Trance cleared her throat and shot him a razor-sharp look. Almost timidly, he took up a casually lounging position on the doorframe.   
  
  
This time, Trance smiled widely, seemingly at nothing, and the only person to catch the pleased expression was Tyr, who made it a top priority to figure out just what the girl's agenda was. It was clear to him that she had engineered that little rant to distract both Beka and Harper from his presence and their mingled surprise and apprehension long enough for the former to agree to letting him on board. And she had known his name. 

  



	7. Technically, Harper Is the Maru's Only K...

Author's Note—Just to remind you all, this is still Day Four. The next bit I post after this will be Day 5 (and beyond).  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"A Nietzschean? On our ship? For two months? And what, you're expecting us to survive this?"  
  
  
Beka, Trance, and Harper were hauling their luggage through Tanchico's corridors, arguing and hoping Beka remembered where she'd parked the Maru. "Yes, yes, yes, and I will _kill_ him if we don't." How Beka could kill someone if she herself were dead no one decided to question. If she were determined enough, all three knew she would find a way.  
  
  
Trance chirped that she was sure everything would turn our for the best.  
  
  
Harper eyed her askance. "Well, maybe. But come on, boss, you know he's gonna be lording over us all the time, reminding us of our genetic inferiority and generally tryin' to tell us what to do."  
  
  
Beka sighed and watched carefully for pickpockets in the shadows. "Listen, Harper, you know I'm not going to take _anyone_ trying to out-captain the captain." She gave the short blond a quick smile. "Come on, you know only I'm allowed to yell at you guys." She turned forward again, leading the other two to the dock in which she thought she'd left the Maru. "Besides, Harper, technically, you're the only kludge here." To be perfectly accurate, a kludge _wasn't_ merely a human; in Common slang, the word referred only to those humans without the slightest bit of genetic tinkering in their sytems--somewhere between five and ten percent of the entire human population  
  
  
"Aw, you got me right here, boss." Harper thumped the area above his heart and winced. "Have I ever told you you're a cruel, cruel mistress?"  
  
  
"Gee, Harper, do you really mean it? I do try my best." As she was in the lead, she couldn't positively say, but she was sure her male crewmate was currently glaring a hole through her. "Hey, Trance, do you think I stand a chance of getting a third 'cruel' in there anytime soon, or am I going to have to step it up a notch?"  
  
  
She stopped in front of a plain, grey door and looked down the corridor both ways. An identical view of identical grey doors presented itself either way she turned her head. "Um, I think this is it." With a shrug, she tapped the keypad on one side of the door, and it slid open. An encouraging sign this was.  
  
  
She jumped and automatically drew her weapon when she became aware of another presence in the room besides their own. As her gauss pistol whistled its distinctive firing-up whine, Tyr stepped silently out of the shadows around the Maru. She exhaled the breath she hadn't known she held, both at seeing her ship and seeing that it wasn't being stolen or looted. "You know, if I fall over dead of a heart attack, you're gonna be out of a job, Tyr." As relief washed over her, she re-sheathed her gun. "Speaking of falling over dead, Tyr, how the _hell_ did you get in here? That docking code I was _assured_ would be kept completely confidential."  
  
  
Tyr looked taken aback. "The Chichin informed me of the passcode," he explained, puzzlement at her ire evident, "I assumed you'd given it to him, although I did question the wisdom of your doing so."  
  
  
Beka could almost feel the tension in the air as Harper fought to restrain himself from launching into a fierce cross-examination of the Nietzschean. She imagined if she glanced at him, she'd see his fists tightly curled and jaw clenched in a Herculean effort to keep his silence. "I completely agree with you on that last part, at least. In fact, I would've thought seriously about canceling my part in the job, knowing the astounding idiocy of its leader." A ghost of a smile flitted over Tyr's features, suggesting (to Beka, at least) that he had entertained very similar ideas not so long ago.   
  
  
She continued to study him for a few moments, then sighed and gave up. "I suppose I could mentally run through the many scenarios in which you're lying through your teeth and then aloud accuse of you of one or all of them, but somehow, I think you'd have an answer ready for whatever I could say." Suddenly, she relented, smiling at the unexpected and frankly uninvited traveling companion thrust upon her just a few hours ago. "All right, I'm not gonna waste your or my time bawling you out, and honestly, I'm not sure I'd dare to." Here she even laughed a little. She strode over the Maru, deactivated the security _no one_ had yet passed without her. Harper always claimed he _could_ if he wanted to but simply _chose_ not to, out of a regard for his captain and especially his own life.  
  
  
"Toss your stuff on one of the empty bunks and then join the rest of us in Command."  
  
  
Harper snorted and muttered, "The area laughably known as."   
  
  
Beka swatted him upside the head. "And under _no circumstances_ let Harper show you what he keeps under his pillow."  
  
  
Trance said in a rather stage whisper to Tyr that Beka had given her the same warning and that she _still_ didn't know what he had stowed away. He glanced at her and wondered at the familiarity with which she addressed him.  
  
  
Beka very closely watched for Tyr's reaction to her ship. Harper could _occasionally_ get away with his eternally witty cracks about her Maru only because (and she wouldn't admit this under torture), he probably was the sole reason she was a single piece, let alone flew and managed to limp away from firefights with Nietzschean slavers. Tyr did seem a bit disbelieving at the cramped quarters and patched-up quality of his surroundings, but much to his credit, he didn't comment on either of these.   
  
  
When all four had gathered in the cockpit, Beka declared the since Tyr looked like the kind of guy who knew his guns almost as well as she knew the slipstream, he could take the weapons console. That had been Vexpeg's old post, and she had to swallow a small lump in her throat at assigning it to someone else. She told herself severely that it would free up Harper, allowing him to focus on repairing and squeezing the last mile out of engines, life support, and firepower. The mudfoot could _handle_ himself on weapons, no doubt about it, but he did tend to become… enthusiastic and lose his objectivity.  
  
  
Tyr surveyed the panels and buttons he would be expected to operate without hesitation. "I do hope you aren't planning a daring raid into particularly hostile territory tonight."  
  
  
Beka laughed at his confusion. "Oh, no. Just a little jaunt into Drago-Kazov territory to steal the bones of Drago Museveni, de-pants the Alpha, and sell both bones and pants to the ever-honest and trustworthy Jaguar Pride."  
  
  
It took a very great effort of will for Tyr not to stare slack-jawed at her. Of course it was purely coincidental that she had mentioned the bones of the Nietzschean progenitor, the greatest treasure of his people, stolen from his own pride by the Dragans, who had gone on to brutally annihilate the Kodiaks. This long after that decimation, the memory of watching Dragan underlings slay his mother didn't rise before his eyes whenever he thought of his Pride or the Drago-Kazov, but the blonde captain's words filled him with an oddly powerful sense of foreboding.   
  
  
Irritated with himself, he shook off his distress. "So long as you're not ambitious."  
  
  
Strapped to her pilot's chair, Beka snorted and requested permission to leave the hangar (or more accurately, demanded that the doors open so she could blow this popsicle stand in two nanoseconds before she blasted her way out). When the Maru had returned to open space, Beka set her controls to auto-pilot and released the safety belts holding her in place. "I used to be civil to them, but that only led to hour-long waits for them to decide that maybe I did want to leave after all." She stretched and swiveled in her chair. "Harper, check all systems, primary and secondary, and make sure we're not going to fall apart at the seams anytime too soon. Trance, I want you to go with him. I am making a solemn vow that one day you _will_ be able to fix this ship without blowing out a single lightbulb." Trance looked so worried by this that Beka stood and patted her on the shoulder. "But I'm not in any kind of rush."  
  
  
This left her alone with Tyr, something she hadn't foreseen and now wished she had. She supposed she couldn't call Trance back up just so she'd have someone else in the room, not after what she'd just told the girl. O-kay. "So, Tyr, uh, how about that weather?"  
  
  
"Captain Valentine-"  


  
"Beka."  
  
  
"Beka, you know just as well as I that there is no weather out here." All right, so it was going to be like this.  
  
  
"Blah, blah, blah, take everything so literally. Tell me, did you really have no idea that the horrible creature was going to assign you to work with me?" Well, she'd never really been one to beat around the bush, anyway.  
  
  
Tyr finally looked up from his console. "I truly had no suspicion it was you for whom he had hired me until he began speaking about you, which I've already explained."  
  
  
And of course it was a perfectly reasonable explanation. "All right, all right, I'll stop harassing you." She grinned. "I know we should probably, you know, talk about…stuff now that we're going to be living in awfully close quarters, but those kind of talks have never really been my thing. I remember when Dad tried to have the, uh, birds and bees conversation with me. Not a success." She laughed and winced a little at the memory. "Anyway, how about I give you a tour of your luxury condo for the next two months? It'll take all of, oh, five minutes, but that's five minutes more we don't have to talk about… something else."  
  
  
Tyr couldn't completely hide a smile at her admission of what would very likely become an awkward situation in the near future. "Very well, Captain Valentine, I await your lead."  
  
  
She sighed (and realized she was doing quite a bit of that lately). "Will it never end? The Chichin calls me Captain," at least, in her ideal world he did—though in her ideal world, Chichins had never evolved beyond the amoeba stage, "and my crew calls me Beka. Or boss."   



	8. Harper Fails To Be Subtle

A/N Just want to say before you all read this, I do love Harper, adore Harper, and belong to the Harpies (Was there ever a Tyr/Beka couple faction? I know there was a Dylan/Beka faction. If so, why did I not belong to it??!) La la la, and this is a LOOONG chapter, cos it covers more than one day, as most of those following will be—except the last, cackle!

{{erm… for ff.net readers who have no idea what I'm talking about with all this 'faction' business, don't worry. It's just ExIsle madness}}  
  
  
Ooh, and another thing. See, someone wants to read this fic when I'm finished, but that someone doesn't watch Andromeda. I already have a sort-of outline for a little cover sheet to explain all this… but how the flippity doo-dah do I explain slipstream? Keep in mind this is an astrophysics nut, so he'll probably mock it if it's not good. And is there anything you can think of I'll need to explain that I might not have thought of?   
  
  
************************  
_Five through Twelve  
And thence we delve!_

  
  
"Hey Beka, there's, uh, something I need you to look at down here."   
  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow at the words she heard through the comm system. "Harper _wants_ me to interfere in his sacred domain?"   
  
  
Without looking up from the sensors he was busy reading, Tyr replied with the tiniest touch of mirth in his voice. "Obviously, he is employing a subtle, highly-sophisticated code so as not to arouse my suspicions that he's calling you to speak about me."  
  
  
And that short anecdote could really summarize the first six days of that first week together. Beka taught the ins and the outs of the Maru to Tyr, who really didn't out-captain, lord over, or even remind anybody of their genetic inferiority (except when making the argument to Harper that he stay on weapons, citing his enhanced reflexes and sharper vision). Harper avoided him whenever possible and, save the few times he decided to argue over something rather petty, usually just muttered sarcasm at Nietzschean. He disappeared for hour- and more –long stretches of time with Trance, and Beka noticed after a few days, the Maru seemed to be flying a little better, and the transitions to and from slipstream were noticeably easier. Trance usually accompanied Harper when he fled to the engine room, and Beka half-expected her to emerge an engineer herself by the time Tyr left the ship.  
  
  
And then there was the tension between her and Tyr. Harper and Trance left them utterly alone nearly half of the average day, after all. She'd grown up on the Maru, but Tyr didn't quite have that luxury, and the days of teaching him her (the Maru's, not Beka's) workings filled the days surprisingly quickly. When Harper or Trance was nearby, Tyr was polite but mostly quiet and impersonal.   
  
  
The very day after she'd told him her dread of "the conversation", he hardly waited for Trance and Harper to leave earshot before broaching that very subject. She was standing beside him at the weapons console, describing its various functions when he turned from the panel to gaze at her silently. She tried to continue her instruction, but it was impossible to ignore that presence focused so entirely on her. After only a minute or two, she stopped speaking and looked back at him expectantly. Well, she could wait all day for him to start, thank you very much.  
  
  
"I know you do not wish to speak of… us, Rebecca, and as the captain of this vessel, you have the prerogative to keep silent on the subject. But I-" He paused and seemed to consider his next words. "I would very much like to know if you desire to pursue a…" he trailed off here, uncertain of what exactly they _would_ have together.  
  
  
"Um, a relationship? Yeah, because you see, among us kludges, a one-night stand _definitely_ does not equal commitment for life." She shuddered at the implications of this notion. "That would mean I'd be stuck with… ugh."  
  
  
Tyr glanced at the floor, and Beka could've sworn she saw a tiny grin before he looked up at her again. "I am well aware that human romantic relationships do not operate quite in the same manner as those of my people."  
  
  
Beka rolled her eyes. Ha! Nietzschean romantic relationships, indeed. _Hmm, he looks like he has good genes. Strap on the double helix and let's get it on!_ "I knight thee Sir Understatement of the Millenium. Listen, Tyr, normally I would…" She couldn't help her eyes traveling to his black leather bracers and exposed bone blades. "Well, I don't know what I normally would. But _normally_ it wouldn't matter what I would or would not because your people generally see…_relations_ with mine as little better than," she wrinkled her nose, "bestiality."  
  
  
For a moment, Tyr refused to let his eyes meet her, and she would've bet the Maru she'd hit something dead-on. "Generally we do."  
  
  
When he didn't elaborate, tell her how this case was different, she prompted him. "Generally we do, _but_… Or do you just have a thing for-"  
  
  
"Rebecca, it's nothing like _that_." Disgust tinged his voice briefly. "I cannot say it _is_ like. And if you do not desire to attempt a… relationship… I don't suppose it will matter what it is like."  
  
  
Beka wanted to hit her head on a wall repeatedly. Quite possibly the most attractive, intelligent, (and judging by his affluence during the poker game) and probably richest man she'd ever met wanted a "relationship" with her—not even a one-night stand slut puppy!—and the universe just had to make him an Uber. Rev always claimed the universe possessed a sense of humor, but this was cruel and unusual.  
  
  
"Hey boss, hop in the pilot's chair and try out your new and highly advanced, super genius improved, runnin' like a classic chrome Caddy engines." Harper's voice announced his arrival before his skinny frame could, and Beka decided it would probably be a good idea to put a _little_ more distance between her newest crew member and his captain before Harper spotted them.  
  
  
She vaulted into the pilot's chair and buckled herself in. "Hold onto something!" As she kicked the Maru from near zero to its maximum PSL's, Harper staggered into Command.  
  
  
"I know you're eternally amazed and perpetually delighted by my almost too good to be true genius, but couldn't ya warn a guy?"  
  
  
Beka whirled the Maru in a tight defensive pattern. She responded beautifully, as smoothly than she'd ever felt, and maybe even more so. "I did. Not too bad, Harper. I guess I'll keep you on board at least another... week or two."   
  
  
Careful to give Tyr a wide berth, Harper made his way to his captain. "Funny, boss. Come on, this flying hunk of scrap would fall apart an hour after I left." He leaned in close enough for Beka to smell the sickeningly sweet aroma of Sparky Cola, and sure enough, she saw a damp spot on his tropical blob tee shirt. "Hey, Beka," he whispered. She stifled a giggle; clandestine wasn't really Harper's strong suit. "How do we know the Uber wasn't hired by the Chichin to off us when the job's done? Huh? How can we trust him? How do we know he's not-"  
  
  
"Harper." She flushed as she realized Tyr was almost surely hearing every word they whispered secretively. "First of all, ease up with the racial slurs, all right? He's crew at the moment, and only _I_ am allowed to call anyone a kludge or an Uber or a whatever and only out of purest affection. Secondly…" She bit her lip and very expressively looked down at her console. Quickly, she brought up a local courier and addressed a message to the Wayist colony at Jehennah. _Rev, our horrid beyond words employer saddled us with a Nietzschean named Tyr Anasazi, says he's Kodiak Pride. What do you got on him? If you'd been around to growl and inspire terror, I know that Chichin would've thought twice about messing with my crew, but as Harper says, life's a beach, then you dive. Take care of yourself and get back soon, all right?"  
  
~Beka_  
  
  
Harper stole a glance back at Tyr. "Thanks boss." He raised his voice ostentatiously. "Well, I better get back to… stuff before Trance breaks… stuff."  
  
  
_Good one Harper, very witty. No one suspected a thing._   
  
  
Tyr didn't bring up the subject of a relationship again that day, and Beka worked the rest of the day showing him the endearing quirks and tics of the Maru. Much to her amazement, they worked together quite easily. Very few awkward moments, all told. Or maybe it was just that he learned quickly and didn't insult her baby. When Beka announced quitting time, she decreed that the tomorrow, they would slip to approximately the middle of nowhere and practice firing and defensive maneuvers.   
  
  
As Trance and Harper stayed in the cockpit the next two days while they all practiced together, Tyr didn't find an opportunity to speak privately with Beka again until their third day in that desolate region of space. That morning, Beka had noticed a strange and very worrisome stickiness when she flew the Maru above seven PSL's.   
  
  
"Feel that, Harper?" As she sped up and attempted to execute a 180° spin, a sensation like wading through honey washed over the Maru. "Make it go away. Now."  
  
  
Harper enthusiastically aye-ayed and only took the time to grab Trance's hand before bounding off to check what was malfunctioning in the Maru's innards. The last couple of days had been rather stressful for him, not so much because he was working in close quarters with a Nietzschean but because he really had nothing negative to say about said Nietzschean. Beka guessed her engineer would've found the whole situation much easier if Tyr had called him kludge every half hour predictably and vied with Beka for authority and the final say-so. Tyr _was_ a little taciturn, but Harper could hardly complain about a quiet Nietzschean. Additionally, it couldn't help that Tyr caught on to his post very quickly, so _no one_ had any real excuse to harbor ill feelings or grouse about him. Beka only wondered what Harper confided to Trance while they were secluded in the Maru's loud, hot inner sanctums.  
  
  
Harper had left now nearly an hour ago, and Beka was beginning to make bets with herself as to when Tyr would continue their conversation from a few days ago. She was starting to lose those wagers when he called her name with a fair note of urgency in his smooth baritone. "Rebecca-" She closed her eyes for a moment and readied herself. "-are you looking at your long-ranger sensor readings? If not, I highly recommend that you do so."  
  
  
She blinked. "Oh, right." She couldn't help squirming around in her chair to steal a glimpse at him. His head was bent over his console, and his fingers danced on the panel. She shrugged. "Everything's looking peachy… except here." She touched the far bottom left corner of her screen. "Oh, lovely. And what is this?" Hurriedly, she tried to magnify and clarify the readings, but it was at the very edge of her most powerful sensor ranger. She switched on the comm system. "Harper, got another job for you." Ignoring his protests and comparisons of her to a sadistic slave-driver, she spoke right over him. "As soon as you're finished correcting our little flying through molasses problem, I want you to up the power on our long-range sensors. I could've sworn we passed the 'Now Entering Absolute Middle of Nowhere' sign, but we've got company."  
  
  
Tyr waited until she turned the comm off, then let the good news just keep on coming. "As far as I can tell, no slip points have been opened in the area since we arrived."  
  
  
"So our friend here…" She did a double-take at her sensors and corrected herself. "uh, make that _friends_ here have been hangin' around a while. If I were Harper, I'd be screaming bloody conspiracy, but _we_ didn't even know we were coming until an hour before we did." She wasn't about to label the ships hostile simply because of an odd coincidence, but she _was_ curious as to what had brought them there.  
  
  
Suddenly, her console beeped, and a clear picture of the unknown ships jumped into view. Beka groaned. Two large, black ships that looked roughly like two crossed ovals and several more like flat round disks with a wedge cut out glittered in the cold starlight.   
  
  
Harper's voice echoed through Command. "Oh man, are you guys seein' this? We got a baker's dozen of Nietzscheans here, and they're heading straight towards us. I suggest, uh, strategic withdrawal before we-"  
  
  
"They're not Nietzschean." Tyr cut Harper off as information flooded his console. He elaborated at Harper's 'huh?'. "They're Nietzschean _ships_," a hint of impatience crept into his voice, "but they're as Nietzschean as… a Nightsider." Beka didn't quite suppress a snort, and she was very well aware that Tyr paused in his soliloquy to eye her drily. "It's a common ploy, especially in areas sparsely populated by Nietzscheans, where people have less experiences with them. The model is over fifty years old, Altreus Pride, but several parts have been upgraded, and those replacements are consistently current T'dalimar technology."  
  
  
Disbelief laced Harper's reply. "Talimar? Never heard of 'em."  
  
  
Tightly-controlled chagrin became more evident as Tyr elucidated the mysterious situation in which the Maru's crew found themselves. "You're neither a Chichin narcotics kingpin nor a Nietzschean who had been blamed for T'dalimar attacks, so I wouldn't expect you to recognize the name. Chichins and Ogami are notorious for their violent… disagreements-"  
  
  
"Sir Understatment strikes again," Beka muttered. Chichins and Ogami had caused no less than fifty extremely bloody conflicts since the Fall, and many of those had come to involve people with originally not the least interest in the altercation.  
  
  
Harper broke in, still speaking over the comm. "That much I knew _before_ I left Earth." He continued but reluctantly. "Thanks to my mind-boggling feat of sensor magnification, you can see that he may be on to something. Those ships are Nietzschean, all right, but with the complete lack of background… anything, those energy signature do _not_ come up kosher."  
  
  
Trance piped up, the first time Beka had heard her voice since she'd descended into the Maru's engine room with Harper. "Tyr's right. The T'dalimar are almost completely unknown right now, but they are very bad people." Almost unknown _right now_? Beka shifted in her seat and saw Tyr looking at her with the questions she was sure reflected in her own eyes. "I don't know why they're here, but if they are, we definitely should _not_ be."  
  
  
Tyr leaned over his console and addressed Beka without activating the comm. "The girl is right. The T'dalimar perpetuate nothing but blood and chaos for those near them, whether they are targets or merely unfortunate bystanders. Virtually no one knows of their existence because they've made a great and extremely thorough effort to ensure that ignorance. _I_ know of them through various offenses of theirs laid at the feet of myself and other Nietzscheans. We enjoy receiving the credit for daring missions of unparalleled violence only when we've actually carried out the missions ourselves. I took it upon myself to discover the identity of those mysterious assassins, and it nearly cost me my life."  
  
  
Beka almost choked. "Assassins?! Gee, you added that like a footnote or something. 'Oh, there are these T'dalimar, right? and no one's ever heard of them, they use Nietzschean ships, really prefer to remain unheard of, oh and by the way, their sole purpose in life is to kill people for money'?!"  
  
  
Tyr looked a little confused at her tirade. "The T'dalimar are to the Chichins what the Ogami are to the rest of the Known Worlds. Certainly they're assassins."  
  
  
Something that had been nagging at the back of her mind burst into Beka's conscious at Tyr's words. She grabbed her piloting controls and switched on the comm long enough to announce an immediate jump into slipstream. The Maru responded a little sluggishly, but for the most part, Beka's reflexes compensated sufficiently. She barely felt the thrill she usually did when slipping, driven by suspicions of betrayal by their employer and images of shadowy assassins lurking just beyond sensor range. They emerged near Albuquerque Drift, the farthest place she could think of from those dark stretches of endless nothing. Ships exploded in and out of slipstream all around her, the drift sparkled garishly, and if she turned on her general transmission channel, Beka knew she'd hear voices crackling non-stop over one another.   
  
  
Harper dashed up to Command as soon as he recognized the drift they approached. "Aww Beka, you remembered my birthday. Now how about a little Christmas bonus so Trance and me can clean out this joint?"  
  
  
"It's not your birthday, and whatever a Christmas bonus is, you're not getting one. We're here because no one who doesn't want to be seen comes to Albuquerque." _That would make a snappy motto._ She unstrapped her safety belts and faced her shortest crewmate. "And you're not stepping foot in a casino, bar, _or_ brothel until you've fixed the Maru. If she responds like that the next time we encounter less-than-friendlies, I swear I'll give you to them myself. I'll _pay_ them to take you." She hadn't finished before Harper disappeared into the Maru's dark, dirty central mechanical areas.  
  
  
"Trance, wait a sec." The purple alien had come up with Harper, and she was just turning to leave when Beka stopped her.   
  
  
It seemed that she faced Beka hesitantly, not fully meeting Beka's crystal blue eyes and continuing to edge toward the corridor that led out of Command. "W-what is it, Beka?"  
  
  
No, that wasn't suspicious at all. "How do you know about the T'dalimar?" Her tone wasn't accusatory but curious and a little surprised.  
  
  
Tyr rested his chin in his palm. "I would very much like to hear this myself."  
  
  
Beka took her eyes from Trance to raise an eyebrow at Tyr. "It's all right if you don't want to say, Trance. I just think that anything we know about these guys might help tell us why we saw them."  
  
  
Trance looked from Tyr to Beka, who cursed under her breath at the Nietzschean. He had to turn on the patented Uber Intimidation© face just at that moment. "Well, you know what I used to do before I met you guys?  
  
  
Beka nodded. "You were a- you found things people wanted and gave them to the people who wanted them."  
  
  
Trance smiled. "Exactly. Anyway, I was finding things for a Chichin once, but the problem was that the things belonged to a very powerful Diamond Than who didn't want to sell them. One day, the Chichin went off to meet one of the T'dalimar, and I might've accidentally forgot where my room on the drift was, so I went back to the ship just as he was about to leave. He didn't know I was on board, and I heard him talking to a very mean-sounding person, and he said he would pay him to make sure he got the things he wanted."  
  
  
Tyr looked the most stunned Beka had seen him yet. "I've never believed the universe cared whether any one of us lives or dies, but for you to survive that..." He shook his head. "You're very lucky." He might as well have stated flat-out that he thought her story was a load of... unpleasantness.  
  
  
Beka grinned. "Yeah, well, she's my lucky charm," as if that explained everything. "You wouldn't believe how she saved Harper's life a couple of months ago." She and Tyr locked gazes for a moment, then he shrugged minutely.  
  
  
"If I can survive the Drago-Kazov invasion and extermination of my home world and a mine collapsing on my head hundreds of meters underground, perhaps the purple girl can live through something entire colonies have died for witnessing."  
  
  
Beka stood up from her chair and stalked toward Tyr until they were face-to-face. "Hey. Her name is Trance. Got it?" When he said nothing, she turned her head to glance at her tailed crewmate... but Trance was gone. She temporarily forgot her irritation. "Trance?" She made a mental note to talk to the girl later. "You pull that again, Tyr, and I don't care if the T'dalimar, Ogami, _and_ Drago-Kazov demand otherwise, I i_will_/i leave you at the first port I can find. And that's if you catch me on a good day." She started to spin on her heel and return to her chair, but a warm hand closed on her arm.  
  
  
"Rebecca." She didn't even try to pull away. "I apologize, and I will apologize to her as well if you wish."  
  
  
Beka massaged her neck with her free hand. "You can apologize all day long, Tyr, and although it wouldn't hurt, that's not what I want. You have to trust to _I_ will deal with my crew the best was I can and that if they weren't the best people I know, they wouldn't be here."  
  
  
He gave her a tiny smile and released her arm. "Spoken like every worthy captain I have ever known. I can see that my apology isn't what you're looking for, but will you accept it?"  
  
  
As if she had a choice, with those deep brown eyes staring inside her like that. "Yeah, sure." She smiled back. "You know, a little intimidation might speed Harper up on his repairs something." She slid back into her the pilot's chair and requested a place to land. "So why do the Ogami despise Chichins anyway? I mean, besides the reasons everybody else does."  
  
  
"I believe it has to do with an ingrained disgust for a species that eats its own young."   
  
  
Beka grimaced. "Then I bet Nietzschean's aren't too buddy-buddy with them, either?"  
  
  
"You bet correctly."  


  
Weaving between ships flying hither and thither, Beka's mind wasn't on the conversation, or she might've thought to ask why Tyr had chosen to work for one. The space traffic controller ordered her to wait and circle for three hours, and she was concentrating mostly on how to avoid that. "Tyr, do you really think it's fair to make us wait three hours after we've come all this way?"  
  
  
"Most assuredly not."  
  
  
"Right." She sent a transmission to the man who'd just asked her to wait. "Gee, that's great. I need some time to practice the latest photon scattering armament that nice Nightsider sold me—and so cheaply too! Ready for-"  
  
  
A burst of static interrupted her. "Hey, look at this! A spot just opened up, Captain Valentine. You're clear to land in hanger J, dock A-18."  
  
  
Beka maneuvered the Maru to the specified location. "Funny how that works? Mention that you want to try out anything sold cheap by Nightsider, and they'll practically _pay_ you to land somewhere."  
  
  
Tyr left the weapons console to stand next to her. "I believe that sort of… lateral thinking is one area in which your people far exceed mine."  
  
  
"That and air hockey." He looked at her incredulously. "You don't believe me, huh? Shake on twenty thrones, and I'll prove it to ya."  
  
  
Tyr uncrossed his arms, leaned on the armrest of Beka's seat, and shook her right hand.   
  
  
Harper magically appeared at her other side as she and Tyr make their wager. "Bettin' against Beka in air hockey? She's been _banned_ from tournaments cos some people think she's a ringer or somethin'." He paused for dramatic effect. "_Nietzscheans_ ban her from tournaments."  
  
  
Beka shrugged nonchalantly when Tyr turned his attention back to her, eyebrows raised in question. She grinned a superbly wicked grin. "Maybe I _am_ an air hockey ringer in my free time, but you already shook on it."  
  
  
**To be continued in… _The Air Hockey Interlude_**


	9. Harper Does Not Do Much Besides Cheer on...

This takes place over a few hours, and the next bit will be the next morning, still in days five through twelve. I could count them up, but I'm fairly sure that will be day ten. Enjoy, mes amis!  
  
Erm, and I seem to be portraying people intoxicated an awful lot. Erm… don't drink and drive! Or pilot! Especially if it's the Maru.  
  
Oh yeah, and I remember someone telling me I'd get into a will if I wrote Trance drunk. Whoever you are, I'm holding that as a legally binding contract   
  
************************  
  
That night, they faced off. Greek and Troy, Hatfield and McCoy, Harper and the entire Nietzschean race… Captain Rebecca Valentine and the destined-to-be-a-Kodiak-Alpha (but alas for fate!) Tyr Anasazi. The game: air hockey. The place: Albuquerque Drift. The wager: twenty thrones… and the final victory in the battle for superiority between _homo sapiens sapiens_ and _homo sapiens invictus_.   
  
  
Beka wore her ten identical finger rings, reflecting the neon light overhead like tiny disco balls. The game had changed very little over the centuries since since its humble beginnings on a blue-green gem (at the time) of a planet few thought of anymore. Many considered air hockey one of humankind's single greatest contribution to the intergalactical gaming and gambling industry—almost enough to make up for the Nietzscheans.   
  
  
She gripped her paddle, shaped like a miniature iron (one of the game's few changes) with a round bottom and waited for the flat puck to shoot out of the side of the machine onto the table's cool, airily buoyant surface. Her eyes flickered to Tyr's, and her lips curved into an anticipatory grin.  
  
  
A rattle, a _whoosh_, and the puck was in play. Tyr tore his eyes from Beka's, and his arm flashed across the table. Beka flicked her wrist, and the disc disappeared into Tyr's goal. He blinked.   
  
  
It was on.  
  
  
His mind didn't wander from its laser-like focus on that plain circle of plastic {{yes, they still have plastic in the future}}. He had wondered at her assurance and had felt a tiny surge of triumph when the machine expelled the puck and she didn't react instantaneously. His eyes had been on the disc, but his mind had doubted that she was truly as skilled at the game as she believed when he realized that the disc had just vanished. It registered in a twinkling of her silver rings that he had seen it fly toward him and that his reflexes, for once, hadn't quite proved fast enough. Now he concentrated all of his faculties on the game, none on his fellow gamer.  
  
  
Beka laughed silently. Ahh, the reassuring routine that inevitably played out when competing against anyone who believed him or herself inherently superior to her. They assumed this would naturally allow them them to triumph. Beka made them work for that triumph, and, in the end, they rarely experienced it. She thought of it as a public service and even as something they would one day thank her for. Someone had to remind them superiority was _never_ simply granted by nature.  
  
  
But she wasn't philosophizing at the moment. Now, she was playing air hockey and slowly defeating her latest contester. Both of them determined to win this as if their lives depended on the victory, ability would ultimately decide the outcome. Tyr had on his side generally enhanced senses, reflexes, and a better idea of the physics that sent the little circle on its unpredictable vectors. Beka possessed vast experience and reflexes engineered just for this sort of hand-eye coordination and rapid response to changes. Tyr had taken it for granted that he would emerge the winner, but Beka's sense of confidence came from countless past games from which she'd walked out with a few more thrones and a very satisfied air.  
  
  
Tyr was definitely among the best players she'd ever beaten, and the finale wasn't yet sure. As she remained ahead, always by a meager point or two, adrenaline rushed through Tyr's bloodstream, speeding up his arm and sharpening his eyes and ears. His neurons were firing at almost inconceivable speeds, tracing the disc's path before it traveled the route. But Beka managed to disrupt those precise, mathematical lines often enough to keep herself in the lead. She glanced at the digital score-keeper. "To twenty?"  
  
  
"Twenty."  
  
  
By this time, people had gathered and were cheering the players in their battle. It must be said that most cheered for Beka, for even those who harbor a disdain and even contempt for humans usually prefer them to their more highly engineered cousins, whom they view with fear and loathing. Only appropriate for the beings who many believed had single-handedly destroyed what had required thousands of years to build, what spanned three galaxies, and what no one had ever dreamed could fall.   
  
  
The excitement was so great that it had drawn Harper from the tables he and Trance (mostly Trance) certainly were cleaning out. He informed the crowd of his captain's name, and, to be fair, Trance told them Tyr's and refused to boo him. She cheered them both on, and Beka smiled to hear that high, piping voice careful to shout exactly equal encouragement for her and her opponent.  
  
  
Albuquerque's staff became highly incensed by all this business the pair was drawing away from the gambling tables, but when they began hearing the cries surrounding them, the idea occurred to one to broker impromptu bets on the game. Soon, uniformed men and women hovered around the edges of the crowd, taking bets and smiling widely, not caring in the least whether the blonde human or the imposing Nietzschean won.  
  
  
Nineteen to eighteen. 

  
If Beka could convince the puck to slip once more into the goal on Tyr's side, she would win. Her rings dug into her knuckles, keeping her fully aware of their every twitch. People sometimes asked her if they didn't distract her, and she answered them that yes, they did. They reminded her of the 'hand' element in hand-eye coordination.   
  
  
The puck bounced off her right corner and back to Tyr before she could divert it. He positioned his arm for a shot that would send the puck on a dizzying side-to-side course, but somehow, he sent a clean, straight shot down the center that ended inside Beka's goal. Oh, this was when she loved the game most, just like she loved piloting the most when slipping routes that too closely skirted black holes and dense nebulas.   


Nineteen to nineteen.

  
Rattle, _whoosh_, and **CLACK**, her paddle collided with the disc. She hit it at a very shallow angle and returned it to Tyr in the middle of its sideways flight. Almost she could see him mentally redrawing the puck's expected trajectory. He executed a very unexpected move, actually buffeting the disc in his own direction so hard that it bounced of his side and streaked toward Beka. She was calculating how much longer this game would continue when it hit her like a falling boulder. An opening. An angle he wasn't counting on. She readied herself for a defensive shot, and then aimed the puck just a little to the right of Tyr's goal, seemingly a mistaken computation. But as her paddle met the puck, she spun it so slightly that Tyr didn't notice a deviation from where it should have gone until it ended up where it shouldn't have.  
  
  
Twenty to nineteen.  
  
  
Any words between combatants were lost in the roar of alternately pleased and angry spectators. Beka smiled at Tyr and tried not to smirk. Now that they were finished playing, their audience barely noticed their existence. They pushed through the gathering, and out of the corners of her eyes, Beka saw incredible amounts of money exchanging hands. She wondered if Tyr caught that too.  
  
  
When they had safely fled the increasingly loud betters, Tyr murmured that she really should have wagered quite a bit more on their game. Beka laughed. "You made me work for that one, Tyr. If I had bet too much, the universe would've chosen this game as the first one I lost in years."  
  
Tyr dug out a couple of thrones from his full-length leather duster but didn't hand them to Beka. She widened her eyes in mild surprise. "If you desire it, I will give you your winnings now, or perhaps we might find the nearest tavern, and I will purchase all the non-alcoholic beverages you wish."  
  
  
"All?"  
  
  
"All."  
  
  
"Baby, you got yourself a deal."  
  
  
Half an hour later, the pair had found their tavern. They sat at the bar, and Beka explained her modified version of the classic drinking game, toss-back-shots-till-someone-dies-of-alcohol-poisoning. "Now, I'm sure you can toss 'em back till the cows come home, Tyr," not that she'd ever seen a cow or really wanted to, "but can you hold your sugar?" At his expression of frank disbelief, she continued. "I'm serious. Harper and I do this sometimes, and we almost always get a group going, and I swear to you, he can hold more than _anyone_ except the occasional Than. It must be all that Sparky he ingests." She chuckled. "Instead of falling-on-their-asses drunk, people leave literally bouncing off the walls. Well, and a little sick to their stomachs. What do ya say?"  
  
  
Clearly, he still had a few reservations about this idea, but he agreed. "If I'm to preserve my dignity at all tonight, I must be victorious in some fashion."  
  
  
This amused Beka to no end. "And you can't even blame that on 'your people'. That is such a typical male ego thing." Just then, she noticed Harper and Trance at the other end of the bar. Trance looked back at her and waved unsteadily, a tall glass with several tiny umbrellas in her unmoving hand. She slid off her barstool and tottered over to her captain and newest crewmate. Beka gaped. Was Trance _drunk_??  
  
  
"Hi Beka!" She stumbled and very narrowly kept herself from the floor. "Oopsie!" She regained her feet and smiled sunnily. "Whatcha two doin'?"  
  
  
Beka bit her lip. "Um, Trance, I think Harper is becoming really a terrible influence on you. Are you all right?"  
  
  
Trance giggled. "Oh, alcohol doesn't affect me that same way it does you, don't worry!"  
  
  
"Right, Trance, I, uh, can definitely see that. So, it looks like you and Harper are having a good time. Nothing like good old-fashioned bonding over drunken revelry, huh?"  
  
  
Trance giggled, "Beka, alcohol doesn't affect me in the least teeny bit, remember?" and tripped. "Ow, my tail!" She looked crestfallen for a moment. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on Harper, though." To emphasize her point, she pointed to her right eye, but misjudged and poked it square on. She blinked and looked very confused. "Beka, something just got into my eye."  
  
  
"Yeah, Trance, it sure did. Are you _sure_ you're fine?"  
  
  
Trance beamed. "Why, I'm doing just great! Are _you_ fine?" She looked from Beka to Tyr. "I think it's so cute when different kinds of people can get along." Then she adopted a serious expression, eyes wide, and she shook a finger at them. "But I want you two to… to…" She paused and appeared to count something on her fingers, then curled them up again and continued pointing at Tyr and Beka accusingly. "I want you two to be careful." She turned her scolding onto Tyr. "You better not hurt her, Mr. Big and Spiky… Big Guy."  
  
  
Miraculously, Tyr kept a straight face and responded respectfully that he wouldn't dream of it. He even said her name.   
  
Trance nodded solemnly. "Good. Cos if you don't… if you do… well, if you're not good, something _very_ big will happen, Mr. Bad Guy." She stopped and considered her words. "Or is it something _bad_ will…" With a shrug, she returned her attention to Tyr and Beka. "Well, have fun you guys!" Smiling, she nodded to herself but didn't seem to be planning to move anytime soon.  
  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, Trance. Uh, I promise we'll be good."  
  
  
"Okie-dokie!" Trance spun and only her hold on the bar kept her and her thoroughly umbrella-ed drink from decorating the carpet.  
  
  
Bemused, Beka watched the intoxicated girl skip uncertainly back to Harper. She shook her head.   
  
  
"How old did you say she was."  
  
  
She twirled around on her stool. "I didn't because I have _no_ idea. Don't know how old she is, _what_ she is, where she's from, why she's purple. You know, I couldn't even tell you her real name. She just told us we could call her Trance, Trance Gemini. Whenever Harper asks her about it, she just smiles and says he couldn't pronounce it. That's really nothing in itself; I mean, the Than have freakin' _poems_ for names."  
  
  
Tyr smiled, a rarity that seemed to be becoming less rare. "Why am I receiving the distinct impression that you are trying very hard to resist adding a quip on Nietzschean family names. Something along the lines of… people who feel an irrepressible need to include the names of half their ancestors since Drago Museveni in their own."  
  
  
Beka tried--and failed miserably--to look innocent. "Who, _me_? Tyr Anasazi, of the Kodiak Pride… um…"  
  
  
"Out of Victoria, by Barbarossa."  
  
  
"… out of Victoria by Barbarossa, I am _hurt_ and _insulted_. The only possible way I can think of healing the pain _might_ be for you to start buying me my infinite supply of teeth-rotting, intestine-destroying beverages."  
  
  
Tyr hailed a bartender. "For the lady and I, rounds of…"  
  
  
"Mm… Lancers on the Job."  
  
  
"Lancers on the Job until one of us falls over or is sick on your bar."  
  
  
Confusion became evident on the Umbrite's broken visage. "Until you… you _do_ know that is a non-alcoholic drink?"  
  
  
Beka laughed. "Yeah, hence the name. You ever drink a dozen of those in half an hour? Two dozen?"  
  
  
The Umbrite turned a very interested shade of blue. Beka guessed it was the equivalent of her suddenly looking green around the gills. "I'll get that right away." 


	10. Harper Does Not Even Make an Appearance,...

********************  
  
Beka awoke to a dark shadow looming over her. She tried to bring the image into focus, but before she could manage to convince her eyes to function properly, a roiling sensation in her stomach hit her head-on (well…). Tearing the sheet away from her, it never even crossed Beka's mind to check her state of dress before bounding to the bathroom she vaguely remembered from the previous night (luckily, she _was_ decent for watching eyes).  
  
  
Her stomach settled just enough that she wasn't physically ill, but all she could do now was to curl up weakly around the toilet and moan. Tyr followed her and filled one of the cheap, bubbled glass cups by the sink. He knelt in front of her and offered the water. Without a word, she took it and pressed the cool glass to her forehead. "What the hell?" she croaked. "I cannot _possibly_ be hungover, nor can I possibly be pregnant." She looked up suspiciously at Tyr. "For several reasons, I _think_." He returned her stare without expression. "I know, I know. But what the _hell_ is wrong with me? Sugar was never this cruel to anyone."  
  
  
Tyr laid a hand against her cheek, then her forehead, and a flicker of concern passed like a cloud over his face. "No, it wasn't."  
  
  
Beka discovered she'd emptied the glass and held it out for a refill. Tyr complied with her unspoken request, but this time he tasted the contents cautiously. He nodded and handed it to her.  
  
  
Had she the strength, the blonde woman would've widened her eyes at this. Did he think she'd been _poisoned_? "People do hate me, Tyr, but they're all to lazy to do anything about it."  
  
  
He examined her face and eyes closely, and she mentally forbade herself from flushing. She concentrated on the crystal clarity of the glass and the tiny points of light reflected and refracted in the water.  
  
  
"Stand up."  
  
  
"Mmm… don't wanna."  
  
  
Tyr trailed his hands from her elbows to her palms and stood, pulling her up with him. She glared feebily but found herself perfectly steady on her feet. With an imperious gesture that would've irritated Beka at any other time, he motioned for her to finish the water. "I think you've contracted a mild fever, not unusual after spending time in the crowded, unsanitary common rooms of Albuquerque Drift."  
  
  
A smile that ordinarily would have sparkled with laughter crossed Beka's pale mien. "Gee, Tyr, you almost sound like you _don't_ like crowded, unsanitary common rooms, and that just wouldn't be the ever-friendly, social butterfly I've come to know over the past few days."  
  
  
Tyr readied a withering reply, but Trance chose that precise instant to burst in through the room's back door. "Is she okay?"  
  
  
Beka nodded, but it was Tyr who answered her. "She's likely no worse than your charge at the moment, though I do predict she'll be feeling unwell a few days longer than Harper."  
  
  
Trance looked over her shoulder at the doorway. "Okay, then I should get back to him. He's a little louder than Beka."  
  
  
Beka frowned and peered at Trance. "Trance, how do you manage not to be in the least hungover after last night? I'm pretty sure you downed more of those 'pretty umbrella drinks' than Harper."  
  
  
Trance replied with a mysterious little smile. "I told you, alcohol doesn't affect me that same way as you guys." She trotted off, and Tyr led Beka back to her narrow mattress and threadbare sheets. A few feet from hers, another bed sat, neatly made and seemingly unslept in.   
  
  
"Trance and I decided last night to request two double rooms so she could care for your engineer this morning and I you, as I had begun to notice your illness last night."  
  
  
She raised an eyebrow. He had actually deigned to coordinate matters with 'the purple girl'? "I'm glad to hear you're all getting along so well." It was impossible to suppress the question in her voice.  
  
  
Tyr considered telling her that he'd had to work on countless occasions with various undesirable characters on whom he might wish to practice his mercenary skills, but he decided that would imply he felt that way about her crewmate and chose not to. Beka defended and protected her crew like a Nietzschean would her family; regardless whether he felt animosity toward Trance Gemini or not, he certainly would be unwise to indicate he did. "I've often found it… useful to intimidate people to achieve my ends, but Trance Gemini possesses… a different sort of persuasion which proved quite effective in bartering for our rooms."  
  
  
It took a moment for Beka to decipher the Nietzschean's vague allusion, but she laughed when it finally hit her. "Let me guess—she looked at the clerk with those big, brown eyes and sniffled about her sick friends, and the guy couldn't very well say not without looking like an utterly heartless bastard."  
  
  
Tyr smiled at the memory. Among his own people, he'd never seen anything like it, and few had ever though to play the sympathy card on a Nietzschean mercenary. But all the girl had had to do was look up at the nervous, embarrassed innkeeper, bat her eyelashes as if blinking away tears, then avert her eyes to the floor and talk in a quiet, mournful voice—seemingly to herself—about the only people who had ever accepted her, who had taken her in with open arms and were now sick and finally _she_ could do something to help _them_, if only she could get another room for them… Tyr wouldn't have been swayed by her sorrowful demeanor—he wouldn't have wavered for a second—but he did half-believe her grief until they were well away from anyone else, and she'd smiled widely and cooed to a nearly-unconscious Harper, "… and do you know why I got away with it? Because I'm _cute_!" Beka was in her room at the time, uneasily asleep for the moment, and now Tyr related the story to her.  
  
  
She chuckled appreciatively. "If she's with us when we leave, twenty thrones says we won't be paying for that extra room."  
  
  
Tyr shook his head. "I will not take that wager." His eyes twinkled. "The last time I accepted, I lost over fifty thrones buying Lancers on the Job, and you ended up sick in bed." He leveled a finger at her in mock disapproval, and Beka did her best to look abashed. The façade didn't hold long; she ultimately failed to fight back a grin.   
  
  
Suddenly, a cramp seized her around the middle. Tyr dashed the few steps forward to her bed and sat down beside her when he saw her clutch her sides reflexively and squeeze her eyes shut. "Do you wish a glass of water, or perhaps another dose of pain-"  
  
  
Her eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright. She winced as another cramp gripped her. "_Another_ dose? Tyr, what did you give me??" Her gaze was clear and intent despite the obvious pain she felt.  
  
  
He looked at her, more than mildly surprised by her fervor. "A completely harmless tablet of cetamine. I dissolved it in a glass of water when I returned with Trance." He chose not to mention that the girl had explicitly warned him against dosing Beka with drugs of any sort. He had assumed Beka suffered from some kind of drug intolerance Trance hadn't the time to explain specifically. Cetamine was one of the few medications that was perfectly safe for any human or Nietzschean with even a mediocre immune system, though it was good for little beyond mild pain relief.  
  
  
Beka closed her eyes again and exhaled. "I guess cetamine's all right, if you have to give me something, but unless I'm dying or soon to be so, you don't have to give me anything."  
  
  
"Later I will be sure to ask you why you desire to experience pain unnecessarily, but now, I believe Trance and I must conduct another conference on the health of our crewmates and how we plan to improve your and Harper's condition."   
  
  
Beka was almost touched by Tyr including himself as a crewmate—almost, but she very seriously wished he had not taken it upon himself to medicate her without her consent. He disappeared into the next room, and Beka spent the next few moments gathering her strength to wobble over in the direction he'd left.   
  
  
With one arm still holding her side and the other supporting her against the door frame, Beka somehow managed to stand upright and even glare at Tyr and Trance in a very respectable captain-like manner as they discussed Harper, herself, and what to do with the pair.   
  
  
"Sorry to interrupt your tea-party, but it _is_ customary for the captain to be included in conversations about said captain and crew's health and future courses of action."   
  
  
Tyr and Trance _both_ looked sincerely surprised that she had exerted herself to claim something so trite as her authority as the Maru's captain in a situation involving the Maru's crew and herself. "Um, in case you've both forgotten, that captain would be me… Beka Valentine. Ringing any bells? Anybody?"  
  
  
"Oh, Tyr was just telling me how you're doing, and I was telling him about Harper. He'll be okay pretty soon, I think, but Tyr and I both think we should get you back on the Maru, Beka. It's probably just a cold, but…" Trance looked up at Beka, worry plain on her lilac face.   
  
_Damn the big brown eyes. Good thing it doesn't work when Harper tries it._ "All right, well, what do you think, Tyr? Are you feeling equally paranoid?"  
  
  
Tyr looked at her flatly. "I agree with Trance. After our encounter with the T'dalimar, I am in no mood to take unneeded risks with your health."  
  
  
Beka rolled her eyes. "I see. It's not paranoia when they really _are_ out to get you." She looked from the towering Nietzschean to the dimunitive… Trance and gave up. If those two agreed, maybe there was something to their suspicions after all. "Fine. Tyr, you pack up Harper, I got me, and Trance can go settle our bill."


	11. Could Harper Really Hold a Grudge Agains...

It bothered her to see Trance worried. Though she hadn't been with them very long, considered Trance her lucky charm. She'd saved Harper's life, and her advice always turned out well, even for something as insignificant as a restaurant choice. Of course, she _had_ suggested they flee the T'dalimar-haunted system, and their stay at Albuquerque had ended in Beka's mysterious--though hardly serious--illness. Still, Beka supposed a fever was preferable to confrontation with anyone Trance called "very bad". Besides all that, Trance was hands-down the most optimistic and all-around cheerful person Beka had ever known, and to see her otherwise was disconcerting. Like a grain of sand in your shoe or a relentless itch on that spot in your back you can never reach.

That was the reason Beka lay in Maru's cramped Medical Bay, feeling ridiculous and absolutely useless. Tyr would coax her all he wanted (Beka decided she might revisit _that_ thought later), but she'd only given into his suggestion that she rest awhile before returning to her captaining and piloting duties when Trance had overheard their conversation and added her own pleas.

So here she was, bored out of her mind and embarrassed to be holed up in Med Deck (a laughable misnomer--Med Deck was most certainly _not_ a deck, but rather a too-small room with little more than two beds and a medicine cabinet) for a fever she caught on a gambling drift. She was considering slipping out of the ill-named room to her quarters--or maybe to the cockpit and scare the living daylights out of Tyr if she could manage to sneak up on him. She doubted it was within her ability to do so, but it could be fun to try and oh-so-worth it if she happened to succeed--when Trance bounced in merrily.

Beka was relived to see Trance back to her usual sunny self, if a little deflated that she wouldn't get a chance to scare Tyr after all. "So, doc, how long do I have?" she asked, swinging her legs off the edge of her too-hard bed and sitting up.

"A long time, I hope." Trance filled a glass of water and brought it to Beka. "Don't worry, it's just hydrogen, oxygen, and whatever's in the pipes that makes it taste funny."

Beka laughed at Trance's slight grimace. "Ahh, yes, Dad used to call it 'Eau de Maru'. He said it would probably be considered a delicacy somewhere, and we'd be filthy rich if we could only find that place."

At this mention of Beka's father, Trance gave her a long, piercing gaze as she handed the water to her captain. It was not a comfortable sensation for Beka, looking up into Trance's bottomless eyes (sitting, she was shorter than her crewmate, unusual enough in itself). "That's why you don't like taking medication, isn't it, Beka?"

Beka didn't need Trance's 'that' clarified. "Yeah." She paused for a moment, and Trance seemed content to wait for her to continue. "Whatever made him so vulnerable to Flash was in his blood… and it's in mine, too. I love him, Trance, but there's no way in _hell_ I'm going to end up like he did." Even as she spoke, Beka was surprised to her herself confiding her deepest fear to the elfin girl.

Softly, she said, "I think Tyr would understand better if you told him that."

Beka blinked. "Tyr? Oh. Uh, yeah, maybe." She averted her eyes and shifted restlessly on the mattress.

"He apologized to me, Beka." In one smooth movement, Trance jumped on the bed and landed at Beka's side. She rested a hand on the other woman's shoulder and smiled at the shocked expression she saw on Beka's face. Apparently to herself, the girl began speaking quietly. "I just wish I could see… it isn't supposed to… but if _he's_ here…" She shook herself and smiled again when she recalled Beka's presence. "Well, he's a Nietzschean, and sometimes they aren't very nice, but I think we should give him a chance before deciding that. Don't you, Beka?"

For once, Beka had cause to be thankful for her fever; a bit more heat in her cheeks could hardly be remarked upon. All this blushing was most atypical for Beka, and it had become quite vexing. "Try telling that to Harper. Unless Tyr single-handedly liberates Earth, annihilates the Drago-Kazov Pride, and banishes the word 'kludge' from Common _lexicon_," Beka pronounced the last word with mock-hauteur, "Harper's _not_ gonna like him."

A tiny grin on Trance's face told Beka the girl wasn't convinced of their engineer's animosity. "Maybe. But will _you_ at least give him a chance, Beka?" Again, that too-direct gaze made Beka fidget on the bed. 

Trance _couldn't_ know about Tyr's romantic advances. She simply meant, of course, that Beka shouldn't judge him before she really knew the man. For the second time in five minutes, Beka dropped her eyes from Trance's. "I'll be good if he is."

At this, Trance looked extremely satisfied, and Beka wondered just what she _had_ meant by asking Beka to give him a chance. Before she could form the words to ask, though, her violet medic announced that she had to go check on Harper. Beka wanted to plead one more time for her escape, but she felt drowsiness hit her like a speeding bullet ((A/N - sure they still have bullets in the future--energy weapons can be dampened by… erm… energy fields, but only a lack of ammo can stop a Desert Eagle!)). Her last thought was a fleeting suspicion that Trance _had_ drugged her, but she wouldn't have, after…


	12. Harper, Pantsed and Sober, Bears Bad New...

When Beka awoke, she immediately tried to calculate how long she'd slept and how much longer she had to remain in this sterile prison. Well, ideally sterile, but she wouldn't bet on it. The hollowness in her middle promptly informed her that she'd been asleep for several hours, possibly an entire night. She raised the lights and mouthed a silent 'thank you' that Trance was currently elsewhere. Fortunately, Beka was still fully clothed, so all she had to do was avoid a certain pair of innocent-looking eyes, until she entered the cockpit. She followed the Maru's least-used corridors and came as near to sneaking up on Tyr as anyone had in quite a while. She spotted his broad, powerful shoulders, silver chainmail glittering coldly under the cockpit's fluorescent lighting. Beka gave a mental whoop for joy, but as if he had her her silent, joyous cry, Tyr called out to her. 

"It seems I will have to study the plans of your ship more carefully, Beka."

In an oddly playful mood, Beka mimicked him behind his back before emerging from her semi-secret corridor. "Don't even think about tattling on me to Trance. The only thing you'll accomplish is giving me even _more_ time to plot you untimely, unexpected, and _completely_ accidental demise. I think you'd be very impressed with my 'lateral thinking' if I told you what I got so far."

"Maybe later." The utter lack of dry humor in his voice alerted to Beka that something wasn't right.

"Uh, and that would be me kidding. I'm no Perseid stand-up comedian, but I thought that one was at least _mildly_ amusing."

Tyr looked up at her. "I would like very much to return you to Medical, Beka, but I fear we may need your exceptional piloting skills in a short while."

__

Run first, ask questions later. Beka vaulted into the pilot's seat without a word, strapped herself in, and tapped her console to life. She groaned. "Tell me these aren't-"

"The T'dalimar? 'Fraid so, boss." Harper's voice burst into the cockpit. He spared only a brief glance for his Nietzschean crewmate before taking up his post at a console that fed him constant streams of data from both internal and external sensors. "And this time it definitely isn't coincidence." His fingers flew over the keypads. "They had to have opened a slip portal just beyond our farthest sensors and sped here like Wile E. Coyote after the roadrunner on an Acme jetpack."

Beka was becoming accustoming to Harper's bizarre aphorisms and didn't bother asking for an explanation of his latest. "Tyr, any ideas why they're on us like a bad case of Triangulum measles?" She could only think of one possible reason herself, and she dearly hoped it was just paranoia caught from their resident Nietzschean. 

"The T'dalimar only reveal themselves to those who have no chance of surviving to tell anyone about their existence. I would guess your amorous Mr. Eron very much dislikes rejection." Despite the very serious circumstances, Beka realized with some amazement that Tyr was half-joking.

Harper scoffed. "Or he just doesn't feel like paying us. But… wouldn't he wait 'til _after_ we finished the job to whack us? That way he looks good to whoever hired him, _and_ he doen't have to worry about something we mudfoots like to call 'contractual obligations'." 

Beka couldn't help a tiny smile crossing her face. Horny as hell and hungover when he didn't get any, Harper might be at times, but he was sharp as a tack when need demanded it. _And admit it, a lot of the rest is a front, and you know it._ She conceded. 

"Beka! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting right now. I'm still running tests, you know, and-"

"-and I hate to interrupt you, Trance, but if I don't get us out this, the only tests anyone's gonna run will be one those little bits of DNA they find floating around here after the T'dalimar disappear again."

Tyr looked up and met Trance's eyes for a moment. "As soon as we're clear of these mercenaries, I promise I will send her back to you." Beka rather resented Tyr speaking of her as a piece of misdirected mail, but Tyr continued before she could voice her annoyance. "But ill as she is, I believe she is our best hope for surviving this… unique situation." 

A string of curses distracted Beka from the conversation referring to her as if she were not obviously in the same room. "Boss, they just charged weapons. Uh, check that, they're firing! I think we'd better strap on our jetpacks and get outta here."

Beka jerked back on the Maru's controls, and the ship leaped wildly, sending Trance and Harper to the floor. "Did I mention that you'd better hld on?" She narrowly avoided the brilliant green burst and turned to zip away when Harper's voice broke in on her planning and calculations.

"Oh crap. They just dumped over three hundred plasma mines on top of our heads. You can try weaving in between 'em, but-"

A violent explosion rocked the ship. "But that." Beka tapped her console, read what it spewed out at her, and pounded it angrily. "We can't even go to slipstream until we get a little space between the mines. If any part of the slip portal touches one of those, it's not gonna matter how much better I navigate slipstream than the T'dalimar." Her only option was to painstakingly maneuver her way out of the mined area. And she might've managed it, if not for…

****

CRASH!! One of those bursts of emerald struck the Maru along her starboard flank, and sparks flew in tiny reenactments of the latest blast. Unbeknownst to anyone but herself, the shot had sent surges through several of the Maru's systems, all converging on Beka's station and propelling a large piece of her white-hot console into her bicep. The lights had flickered and died for a few moments after the direct hit, and amid the flares of various surging or failing systems, no one noticed the flash of exploding console that injured Beka.

Now conscious and functioning purely on adrenaline, Beka was hardly aware of the bone-deep gash on her upper arm. Admirably focused, she piloted the Maru out of the minefield and thrust the ship into slipstream the moment she was halfway safe to do so. "Destination: hell outta Dodge." The ride felt bumpier than usual, but Beka's crewmates attributed it to damage to navigational systems. Because he was positioned at just the right angle to see Beka's injury, Tyr was the first to notice it.

When they exited slipstream he saw he swaying faintly out of the corner of her eye and looked up worriedly, thinking of her still unaccounted-for fever. His eyes widened as he took in the bright scarlet stain on her pale arm and the chunk of console still lodged in the wound. He raced to her side and caught her before she could hit her head on the back of the chair. He unbuckled her as he fielded the crew's frightened exclamations.

Beka struggled to keep awake, but all she could manage was a drowsy, "you did apologize… maybe I should… chance…" before she passed into unconsciousness once more.


	13. Beka says quite a naughty word, allowabl...

A/N: Since I can't seem to make ff.net show italics, I'm going to put the words that should be in italics between two slashes.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Oh, fuck!"  
  
   
  
Beka awoke to a searing, throbbing agony unlike anything she'd ever known before, and, consequently, she cursed like she didn't often curse. Someone had bound her right arm above the elbow in clean gauze and white tape, but the soft fabric was clean no longer. As she struggled to raise herself into a sitting position, she became aware of another presence in the room. Before she could positively identify it, the dark mass glided toward her, and quite suddenly, she found she was being deeply kissed by none other than Tyr Anasazi. She thought dryly that there wasn't much she could really do, besides sit there and possibly /consider/ kissing him back, with a piece of her piloting consoled nestled in her bicep. Very soon, thoughts of injury (and everything else) fled. His hands lay on either side of her face, determinedly holding her in place. It occurred to her to wonder, in a very scattered sort of manner, what exactly he planned on doing here on this uncomfortable mattress in Medical, but his hands never left her face.   
  
   
  
After a minute, or five, or five hundred, he slowly loosed his gentle hold. While Beka was recovering from this highly unanticipated display of affection, he arranged himself so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, turned toward her. As tempting as it was to insert a light witticism into the silence, Beka bit her tongue. She definitely wanted to hear whatever Tyr had to say.  
  
   
  
For a moment, he simply sat and ran his eyes over her face, over her wound, down her body, and back to her quiet gaze. He idly played with the fingers of her right hand as he seemed to search for some fitting words. It began to unnerve Beka, this very un-Nietzschean and un-Tyr behavior, and she wondered if she shouldn't say something after all.  
  
   
  
"I cannot properly express my joy at seeing you alive, Rebecca." Beka shivered at the caress of his mellifluous baritone. "A serious gash even such as that should not have threatened your survival, but you were already ill, and you likely worsened it by piloting so soon after you received it." She noticed--with the tiniest hint of amusement--that he did not suggest that she had been wrong to pilot in spite of her injury. Inexpressibly glad to see her he might be, and afraid she had done herself no favors by piloting with her slashed arm he might have been, but he knew very well that if she hadn't, they certainly wouldn't be sitting here right here and chatting merrily. She also noted that he didn't speak of a hope that he had not offended her and almost smiled.  
  
   
  
Unable to think of a reply to his first words, she carefully probed the darkest crimson patch of the gauze and winced. "Is there still a hunk of Maru in here?"  
  
   
  
Tyr didn't try to stop her from examining the wound. Trance would, were she present, but he knew the inexplicable fascination people have with their hurts, poking and picking at them repeatedly when logic and experience told them it would cause pain. He supposed it was natural, after all, that one should wish to assess one's own damage. "Trance ran ahead of me while I was carrying you and prepared this… Medical Bay of yours for surgery." By his tone and the flash of his eyes around the room, he obviously didn't think much of it. "She refused to allow me to watch her operation, but I did wrap your arm when she finished." He hesitated. "She is… an interesting character, your Trance Gemini. A more skilled healer I can't say I've ever met."   
  
   
  
Outside, voices raised in conversation could be heard, and a moment later, Harper burst through the door. He hurried to Beka's side, and to the surprise of all present, Tyr stood up without a word. He stepped back a short distance, so the engineer could have a private conversation with his captain.   
  
   
  
But, like Tyr, Harper wasn't finding words enough to express himself. He squeezed Beka in a tight embrace and only let go when Beka told him softly that he was squishing her arm. Wide-eyed, he released her hastily and took up Tyr's position beside her. "Dammit, boss, you can't do that to us! First Trance, now you, playing the ever-popular Let's Make the Engineer Think We've Bought the Farm So We Can Ditch Him at the Next Drift." His voice rose and fell jerkily, and Beka eased herself forward and gingerly set her arm across his shoulders.   
  
   
  
Beka responded as they leaned against one another. "Come on, Harper," she said affectionately, "you know I'm not gonna let you go 'til you acknowledge the Maru as the most perfect ship in existence. Shadowy, mysterious, and highly-overpaid assassins are no match for a Valentine trying to prove a point."  
  
   
  
From a few feet away, Tyr rumbled that Harper had clung to her bedside like a starving leech since she was brought into Medical. He nodded. "Well, except when the computer announced that we had thirty seconds until total destruction, and I had to convince the engine room /not/ to kill us all in a fiery inferno." Beka couldn't believe that he hadn't mentioned his genius once as he summarized the emergency in an uncharacteristically brief fashion. "I only stepped out a minute ago cos there was something Trance /had/ to tell me in private, but I don't know…" He looked up at Tyr and studied the larger man for a moment. "We both were here," he admitted.  
  
   
  
While the constant vigilance of her crewmates warmed Beka… "I almost hate to say this, guys, but um, was anyone on the look-out for our new friends? Was anyone on the look-out for /anything/? She truly did appreciate their probably sleepless watch--and she did hate to bring up this matter during such a moment--but she didn't like the thought of her ship drifting aimlessly and unguarded through space.  
  
   
  
Tyr came the closest to smiling he had so far today. Beka would wager he hadn't forgotten those demands on his survival. "Trance /did/ dismiss us from time to time. Forcefully, in Harper's case. She couched the order by insisting it was necessary she check your wound in a strictly sterile environment." Another expressive look around Med declared that he hadn't believed a word of it. He chuckled very quietly and under his breath muttered, "It seems that your Trance made a very lucrative living as an able puppet master at one time."  
  
   
  
Beka and Harper exchanged glances, then looked questioningly at Tyr. "Uh, care to share with the class?  
  
   
  
   
  
A bright voice issued from the doorway, asking what they were going to share. Harper turned. "Sorry, my magnificent miracle-worker, no show-and-tell here. I think the strain's finally gotten to be too much for Tyr, and he cracked--he just started talking to himself."  
  
   
  
He twirled his index finger in a small circle near his forehead. Beka laughed, and Tyr shot him a very dry, pot-calling-the-kettle-black sort of glance. It was a sudden, brief moment of camaraderie that touched Beka strangely.   
  
   
  
Trance met Beka's eyes, and they shared a tiny smile at the scene. She spoke up after a minute, telling Harper and Tyr that it was that time again; she needed to check Beka's injury, and they had to check the ship's. She hustled out a reluctant Harper, and Tyr turned around to meet Beka's eyes before he left. Trance and Beka chatted lightly during her examination, and Trance announced that she was healing wonderfully.   
  
   
  
In the same upbeat tone, Trance informed Beka that she would prepare to remove the last bit of debris in just a moment, as soon as she could ready her equipment. Beke blanched. "You say it so casually, Trance. 'You're doing great, great progress, back on your feet in no time… and I'm about to perform major and quite /painful/ surgery on you. Why didn't you remove all of it earlier?"  
  
   
  
Trance bustled around, clinking shiny instruments and murmuring to herself. "Oh, well I didn't want to take all of it out at once. It seems kinda funny, but that piece of plastic was actually staunching the blood a little. I was afraid that if I took it all out at once, it would start spurting and…" She turned her head and caught Beka's queasy expression.   
  
   
  
"Uh, thanks Trance. Coulda spared me the visuals." The purple pixie just smiled and continued to flit around, arranging her silver and very sharp surgical tools. Beka caught a whiff of… herbal something, and Trance disappeared into a shadowy corner, then brought out a steaming cup of a mysterious dark liquid. Beka raised an eyebrow but took the cup and inhaled deeply. Her unofficial chief medical officer always gave her this or another tea before an operation, knowing well her captain's aversion to more traditional medicine.  
  
   
  
The fragrant concoction barely touched Beka's lips before she drifted into a deep, painless sleep.  
  
   
  
~~~~~~~  
  
And the first line of the next bit!  
  
/I've been waking up from drugged sleeps a lot recently/, Beka observed as she awoke from yet another unnatural--though healing, she had to admit--rest. 


	14. Beka and Harper skulk, sneak, and are ge...

/I've been waking up from drugged sleeps a lot recently/, Beka observed as she awoke from yet another unnatural--though healing, she had to admit--rest.  
  
"Hey boss, you awake?" Med was dimmed, and at first, Beka thought she had dreamed the voice that had awakened her. "Boss?" She propped herself up on her elbows, winced, and squinted into the dark. A pale figure with unruly blond hair materialized at her side. "Good. Are you okay?"  
  
Aside from the twinge that shot up her arm when she leaned on it, she really did feel fine. "Um, I think so, but Trance isn't going to be happy that you disturbed her patient from her sleep. After taking care of her plants for so long, I think she's almost delirious at having something more complex to nurse."  
  
Harper darted a glance at the door before replying. "Yeah, boss. Do you remember what day it is?" Another paranoid glance.  
  
"Harper, have you been chugging the Sparky again? You know that more than six of those a day has been scientifically proven to equal a 500 milliliter dose of Flash and--oh wait, today's Trance's not-birthday, isn't it?"  
  
Harper nodded and looked over his shoulder. "Uh-huh, and I don't think I've ever seen her sleep, so we have to hurry up." He turned and stared so intently at the Med door that he yelped and jumped halfway to the ceiling when Beka laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Seriously, Harper, ease up on the cola. Do you mix that stuff in with your coffee each morning, or what?"  
  
Harper began to make a face at her, but his expression suddenly became thoughtful. " 's not a bad idea for all those nights I'm stayin' up twenty hours straight, like after that Sabra-"  
  
"Shut up, Harper," Beka said calmly. She swung her legs off the bed and hopped down beside her engineer. Together, they padded stealthily to the door. It slid open with a soft hiss, and Beka herself nearly reached the ceiling when she saw someone outside. She opened her mouth and tried to think of a plausible excuse for Trance as to why she was sneaking out… but this was a tall, dark, and chain-mail clad someone.  
  
"Tyr!" she breathed, "what is the name of the Divine are you /doing/ there?! And /who/ is watching my ship??"  
  
Tyr hand turned to face the duo as soon as the door had revealed them. "I observed Harper slinking around the ship like a Perseid playing at espionage," he explained with a short burst of rather derisive laughter, "and it piqued my curiosity--and I'm sure your ship's sensors are doing a perfectly adequate job of sensing on their own."  
  
Beka peered down the hall in both directions and motioned for Harper to follow her. "And I'm sure your Nietzschean-ly enhanced senses could a /more/ than adequate job. It's Trance's not-birthday, and Harper and I have to… make out preparations before she decides to check up on her favorite suffering patient again." She met Tyr's eyes and gave him her most captain-y glare, though it must be said that she didn't quite suppress a gleeful smile. "And if you snitch on me, Anasazi…"  
  
He looked faintly amused. "Yes, Captain Valentine, the airlock. I never saw you, or Master Harper, for that matter." With a mock bow, he left them. Harper and Beka shrugged at one another.  
  
In one tiny area… no more than a closet… in a corner on the Maru was located a room with the highly satirical name of 'Festival Hall'. Harper had nearly choked when Beka first introduced him to the Festival Hall. The crew stored various scraps and odds-and-ends they picked up at sundry drifts that they could use for a party, birthday or otherwise. Beka threw these parties faithfully for her crew, in private memory of all the birthdays and holidays that had passed uncelebrated during her childhood.  
  
Now they raided the Festival Hall, emerging more ribbon than human. Harper selected mostly pink and purple streamers, while Beka chose the sparkliest she could find. They shushed each other constantly and giggled like giddy teenagers who just discovered the ship's liquor cabinet. Then, to Beka's infinite horror, Trance appeared at the other end of the corridor. Without a word of explanation, she shoved Harper into the claustrophobic room and dove in after him. She thought she heard Trance hum as she skipped past, but the humming and skipping could've easily been her imagination.   
  
"Too bad I don't possess Mr. Anasazi's genetically enhanced everything right now," she muttered."  
  
Harper snorted beside her in the darkness. "Boss, no offense, but if you had Tyr's Nietzschean goodness, you'd be halfway to barefoot and pregnant by now."  
  
If there'd been a single ray of light penetrating the dusty room, Harper would've discovered himself the victim of a purely venomous glare. "Ex/cuse/ me?? Valentine women do /not/ do barefoot and pregnant." At least, from what little Beka knew of her mother, they didn't. /Swashbuckling from day we met to the day she left/, her father had often said fondly. And /she/ definitely wasn't planning on it.   
  
"Oh come on, boss, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome's been after you from day one. Not that isn't showing /impeccable/ taste in doing so," he added hastily, "but I'd be a little more trusting of him if he… I don't know… called us kludge at every other turn and insisted on running this whole mission himself. But boss, he actually /asked/ my advice on the Maru's engines today. I mean, you and Trance know I'm an engineering god above and beyond any other, but this fact has never before been acknowledged by any of our cousins /invictus/."  
  
"Shh, I think I hear Trance." They were still a moment, then Beka exhaled. "I don't know what to tell you, Seamus." /I don't know what's going on myself/. "For better or worse, he's here, and as long as he's good, he stays." Cautiously, she opened the door a crack. From what she could make out, the hallway was deserted. "Now don't forget the tape."  
  
As they skulked through the Maru, Harper hummed a tune Beka'd never heard before. "Oh, come on, boss, you're kidding me, right? Mission: Impossible?" At her blank look, he persisted. "James Bond? Austin Powers? Dr. Evil?" He held his pinky to the corner of his mouth and began in a strange accent, "Throw me a freakin' bone here, people. One hundred /billion/ dollars. I shall call him… Mini-Me. Just the two of us…" At this point, he burst into song.  
  
Beka goggled. "What the /hell/ are you babbling about, Harper?"  
  
He rolled his eyes, dropped his hand, and spoke in his normal voice again. "Barbarians. No culture, whatsoever."   
  
They finally approached the crew bunks. Beka and Harper looked around, at each other, then shook their heads. Trance's favorite place and true home on the ship was the tiny hydroponics bay, which housed her beloved--each individually named--flora. Harper went on ahead, "to scope out the joint," and finding it empty, called to Beka.  
  
"All right, Harper, after she searches the Maru for us, she's going to come right back here. Let's make it quick." In a flurry of activity, pink and purple, shiny and sparkly, the two taped and tied up the bright decorations at an almost superhuman speed.  
  
Beka smiled, very satisfied, at the effect. She didn't waste much time, though, and began giving Harper some final instructions concerning her present for Trance and smuggling back here, along with his own. He saluted her and dashed away, hugging the wall and humming that Impossible Evil James song again.  
  
All Beka had to do was creep back into Med and convince Trance she had just popped off to the Mess and returned by a longer route than usual.  
  
A hitch in the plan came about when Trance caught her patient just a few minutes later, nowhere near the Mess. "Beka, what are you doing? If that gets infected, you're going to have to stay in bed even longer, and…" Beka put on an attentive expression and listened to Trance's scolding without saying a word until she finished.  
  
"You're right, Trance. I don't want anything to make this any worse, and I /definitely/ don't want to stay in Med any longer. But you know, being trapped in that teeny, dark room for so long… I just had to get a little air." Vague but appropriately believable. Beka congratulated herself on her ad lib.  
  
Trance gave Beka a characteristically merry smile, and her tone warmed to match. "I guess I should've asked if you wanted to go on a walk. You can come with me to check plants now if you-"  
  
"/No/, Trance, uh, thanks, but I think I've gone far enough today." She forced a laugh. "Think I'm getting a little woozy." She touched her fingertips to her forehead, and Trance immediately wrapped an arm around her waist.  
  
"Well, then let's get you back to Medical. I can check on Lizzy and Mr. Darcy later." She shot Beka a puzzled glance. "Did you see Harper during your escape? I was going to ask him where you were, but I couldn't find him either."   
  
Beka was innocence personified. "Really? Oh, he probably just crashed in one of the hallways near the engine room after a characteristically Harperian two-day caffeine binge." She shrugged minutely.  
  
"Hmm. I guess I'll look for him after I get you safe and sound in Medical."  
  
Beka cheered inwardly. Another delay!  
  
"You know, for a second I couldn't even find Tyr! But then her just sort of appeared in the cockpit," She leaned in, as if sharing a confidence. "I told him you wouldn't be very happy if there wasn't anyone watching out for the bad guys."  
  
Beka laughed and looped her good arm around the girl's shoulders. "You got my number there, Trance." 


	15. Our Intrepid Heroes Celebrate a NotBirth...

A/N: And let me say that if anyone besides Beka called her 'Bekie', she'd whack 'em. And not in a smacking-Harper-upside-the-head sort of way. In a making-the-Mafia-proud sort of way.  
  
Remember, catch a ref, get a gold star!!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Oh, Beka, I almost forgot! You got a message from Rev today! A courier ship stopped by while you were asleep." Trance was presently occupied in cleaning Med and chattering about the latest plant she'd received, a night-blooming Tuvia vine, while Beka read the flexi.  
  
/Beka~  
  
Please wish Trance a joyful not-birthday on my behalf. I would be very glad to join you, but an epidemic of an acute and highly contagious febrile virus has swept over several of the Dragan slave worlds in this system. Fortunately, the Nietzscheans have granted the Wayists limited access to the afflicted, though, I fear, for the wrong reasons. I do not know how long we shall need to tend these humans, but I will rejoin you as soon as I may.  
  
As to Tyr Anasazi, you know how loathe I am to judge any individual by the actions of his race. However, this particular individual is not merely a Nietzschean but one of the highest-paid and most feared mercenaries in his field. I have been able to retrieve accurate accounts of few of his assassinations—these with some difficulty—and I feel that I must warn you, Beka, that he is one of the deadliest men you have ever come across.   
  
You will have no cause to worry about conflicting loyalties to any Pride—no small blessing, I believe—for his, the Kodiak, was brutally destroyed by the Drago-Kazov during his youth. Perhaps he and Mr. Harper will find some common ground in their sentiments concerning that Pride.  
  
An even more troublesome note is the shadowy reports of increased T'dalimar activity. You've probably not heard the name before; the T'dalimar are an almost universally unknown sect of extremely dangerous and paranoid mercenaries employed solely by Chichins. They never surface—that I know of—without carrying out a fatal mission, and very few who have seen them survive to spread tales of their existence. Currently, differently sources place them in different systems—one even claimed a sighting near Albuquerque Drift, which may tell you how reliable these witnesses are—but I do not like the stories I find and what it may bode for a crew working under a Chichin employer. It deeply concerns me that dangers may lurk both within and without your ship, but I wil not counsel you to undue fear and suspicion. I know you will remain as alert as ever, and I pray for you and your safety daily.   
  
When I return, I shall be very curious to know how Harper reacted to Mr. Anasazi's presence.  
  
~Rev/  
  
Little in the message surprised Beka, though she did shiver at Rev's mention of T'dalimar near Albuquerque, and the ominous tone behind the words unsettled her. Still, Rev had begun and ended the letter with a note to make her smile.  
  
A voice broke into her reverie, startling Beka. Trance even jumped a little when Tyr's baritone echoed through Med. "Trance Gemini, you are needed in the cockpit immediately." The Nietzschean certainly wasn't one to mince words. Trance shot Beka a confused—and, could it be suspicious?—glance, then shrugged and left Beka with a friendly admonition not to smuggle herself out again. In response, she uttered an assuring but noncommittal noise.  
  
Harper must've hidden himself in the next corridor over, as he stole into Med less than a full minute after Trance had gone. "Ready, boss?" She noted with no little amusement that Harper had changed out of his grease-stained tee and now sported a new-looking green shirt with black Vedran lettering.  
  
She laughed. "You know those things always say 'stupid mudfoot buys anything'." She hopped onto the ground. "How'd you get Tyr in on this?"  
  
"Oh you know, just told him it was an /ancient/ tradition of ours… which didn't convince him. Then I said how much time we'd spent getting ready, and you with your bum arm—well, you know, at least half an hour--" he looked a little sheepish, "though he may be, uh, laboring under the delusion that it was…somewhat more… and he looked like he /might/ be persuaded and /then/ I told him how much it meant to you, and he was practically /begging/ to help."  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Okay, he said something sarcastic about human sentimentality, told me to go hide before 'the purple girl' found me, and then laughed." He waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, Beka, for Tyr I think is practically /is/ begging. And at what point did he decide to aid us in our scheme? Oh, yeah, as soon as he heard how much it meant to—ow!!"  
  
Beka swatted him upside the head with her functioning arm, quite understandably and in the most affectionate sort of manner.  
  
"Have I told you--"  
  
"Yes, Harper."  
  
"Oh come on, you don't know what I--"  
  
"Yes I do, Harper."  
  
"Then--"  
  
"We both know, Harper. Now hurry up before the image of you running scared from Trance stops entertaining Tyr, and he lets something slip." Following their earlier route, the pair ghosted through the Maru and soon arrived in Hydroponics. After she'd left, Harper apparently had festooned every single plant with lavender- and rose-colored ribbons. Two small presents adorned a round little table that normally held a watering can.   
  
From one corner, Harper withdrew a lump of… something with a pleasant, faintly sweet aroma. With a flourish, he slipped off the rag covering the lump and presented a misshapen loaf of bread. Beka frowned. "Uh, Harper, what is that?"  
  
Harper scrounged up some candles—those Beka did recognize, though they were smaller than any she'd ever seen—from the mysterious depths of his cargo pants, and explained. "It's an Earth thing. See, whenever one of us had a birthday, my parents would use their flour and sugar rations to make a loaf of this sweet bread. Then, they stuck a tiny piece of candle in the middle and lit it. You know, no one else ever made 'em, and after my parents were… after they…" Beka nodded. "Well anyway, I forgot all about it until a couple weeks ago when I saw this at Camazotz Drift." That had turned out to be the /creepiest/ places Beka had visited in her entire life. It wasn't seedy but possessed what Harper had termed 'the whole Big Brother atmosphere'.   
  
He tilted the plate, so Beka could view the loaf from the top. Cake, she decided it must be. That made sense. "See? It's shaped kinda like a flower, and that reminded me of Trance, cos, you know, she really likes…" he gestured to the bright and blooming room around them.  
  
While she agreed aloud with Harper's assertion, Beka privately thought it resembled an amoeba swimming in the primordial ooze. "Trance'll love it. But, uh, Harper, maybe I should light the candles. And just out of curiosity, how does one prevent the candles from setting the cake ablaze?" Plants filled the small bay, and a fire here would spread like Triangulum measles. "Trance would be /devastated/ if her babies met such a horrific end, especially the day of her not-birthday."  
  
Harper looked at her as if she were some leopard skin loincloth-clad Neanderthal who'd just stumbled into Cavanaugh's. "Ya gotta blow 'em out. Well, first you have to make a wish."  
  
Where did Harper /get/ these things? Lighting cake on fire, only to blow it out a few seconds later was supposed to make wishes come true?? "Right, Harper." She wrote it off to kooky mudfoot quirks. "If you neglect to inform Trance of that last part, we'll have this to douse the wildfire." With something of her own flourish, Beka revealed two bottles of sparkling grape juice. She grasped the bottle necks tightly in one hand, praying that they wouldn't decide to fall and shatter on the floor. Grinning to herself, she wondered if Harper would forget they were non-alcoholic and proceed to get smashed out of his gourd again.  
  
While Harper was setting out the bread, juice, and tableware, Tyr's voice boomed over the comm. "I've had a request to tell you, Mr. Harper, that you may run, but you shall find your efforts to run from Trance Gemini futile." At the amusement evident in his voice, Beka suspected he saw the situation as a squabble between two fifteen year-olds who would soon reconcile in any case.  
  
Harper's head jerked up, and the plates clattered to the small table. "Oh crap! Uh, lights out!" A two-toned beep announced the Maru computer's acknowledgement of the command, and the lights died.  
  
Beka pressed her lips together to stop a giggle from escaping. /She/ knew her ship inside-out and backwards, but Harper… "Aah! What the--?! When did--? Ouch!"  
  
Into the darkness filled by Harper's pained groans, Beka called for some slight illumination. "All right, Harper, /first/ set your cake on fire, /then/ kill the lights."  
  
Muttering something Beka imagined she was better off not knowing, Harper fumbled with a lighter, and soon, six bright points—one for each petal of the flower cake and another in the center—appeared out of the shadows. He softly ordered the lights out once more with an additional note to return to normal levels when the door opened, and they waited, absolutely silent, for the quick, quiet pitter-patter of purple feet.  
  
The Maru was small enough that Beka knew they wouldn't be waiting long. That is, she /knewi little time had passed, but in near-complete darkness and silence, minutes seemed to stretch unbearably. Finally, footsteps sounded just outside the door. The door slid open, the lights flickered on, and…  
  
"Sur—hey, you're not Trance! I mean, unless Trance had sex- and species-change operation, a good sunless tanner, and--"  
  
Tyr gave Harper his flattest look. "She hasn't, and I'm not. I came to warn you that she is fast on my heels, and--" He scanned the room. "Might I inquire after the loaf of flaming bread?" he asked mildly.  
  
Beka grinned. "Great minds, Tyr; I wondered the exact same thing. But shh! If she's coming, you gotta shut up, so you don't ruin everything." She pulled him to her side and ordered the lights out, with the same command as Harper's.  
  
Sure enough, a light tread could be heard only a minute later. The door slid open, the lights flickered on, and…  
  
"Surprise!" Beka didn't think she'd ever seen Trance's eyes so wide. "Happy not-birthday, Trance!"  
  
The elfin girl had entered scolding Harper, but her words died at Harper's joyous shout. "Aww, guys…" She smiled beautifically as she studied the decorations. "It's so pretty!" Her eyes landed on the flower cake. "But why-"  
  
Beka chuckled, and even Tyr cracked a tiny smile. "I swear, no proper education at all." Harper moaned, shaking his head. He was smiling, though, and failed to sound disapproving. "You make a wish and blow out the candles, my beautemous not-birthday girl. But you can't tell anyone your wish, or it won't come true."  
  
"Oh!" Trance chirped cheerfully, as if that explained anything. Her sparkling brown eyes darted to the sight of Tyr and Beka side-by-side, and her lips curved. She closed her eyes, whispered something, opened them again, and blew out all six candles in a single breath.  
  
Harper and Beka burst into 'happy birthday', and Trance blushed a deep plum. The engineer then suggested something about birthday swats, and Beka gave him an /not/-birthday swat upside the head, for the second time that day. He muttered something about wishing she'd injured /that/ arm, but Beka informed him that she was a proficient smacker of short engineers with hugely inflated egos with /both/ hands. "Besides, it's time to give Trance her presents!"  
  
Trance exclaimed that they shouldn't have and clapped her hands over the shiny wrapping paper.   
  
"Oh wait! Before we do anything else, Rev also wishes you a happy not-birthday. Now, here's something from me." And Beka handed her a dark violet- and lavender-striped box.  
  
Trance unwrapped it carefully, delicately pulling off layers of thin paper. Harper tried to grab it from her hands, complaining that she was 'doing it wrong'. Beka scolded him, and Trance held him off with her tail. "Oh Beka, it's wonderful, thank you!" She bounced over and hugged her captain, who recovered from her shock enough to pat the girl on the back uncertainly with her working arm and shifted the other, so it wasn't too sqooshed. Trance gently lifted from the box incense and a clear incense-holder shaped as a single, crimson rose.  
  
"Okay, my turn!" Harper declared, rushing to bring his gift from the small table. He hovered on the tips of his toes, unable to stand still while Trance opened the shimmering pink cube. She revealed a shallow stone bowl filled with water and six floating white and teal blossoms. "Harper! Cerulean water lilies from Min-ta-sheean! I think this one's Joanne, and Amie, Marc, Nancy, Kim, and… Eric!" As she embraced Harper, Beka whispered to Tyr that she was naming the flowers, in response to his raised eyebrow.  
  
After Trance disentangled herself from Harper, Tyr stood and slowly approached the exuberant pixie. He began slowly to speak. "In the spirit of things, I…" He ran a hand through his dreadlocks.   
  
"Gee, Tyr, don't strain yourself," Harper called out.  
  
The Nietzschean glared and continued. "When we dock, Trance, if you find anything that pleases you, consider it a… a gift."  
  
Beka stared. Harper stared. Trance hugged. Beka thought Tyr's eyes would pop out of his head. He looked shell-shocked.  
  
"I really hate to interrupt this, um, beautiful moment," she told Harper in a low voice, "but I think it's time to break out the bubbly and formerly-flaming cake."  
  
"Huh? Oh yeah." Harper raised his voice. "All right, kids, break it up! Time to get wasted!"  
  
Trance turned and gave Beka an inquiring look. "I thought-" Beka grinned and winked, and Trance smiled back in sudden comprehension.   
  
The blonde captain struggled a moment, trying to uncork the bottle one-handed, before Tyr deftly lifted it from her grasp and just as smoothly popped the cork, pouring in into glass flutes as it fizzed and foamed. The four clinked glasses to Trance's toast—to the best crewmates and a really great not-birthday. She quaffed half the glass and hiccuped. "I remember the first time you guys threw me a not-birthday party." She looked over at Tyr. "Well, you weren't there, Rev was. Anyway, it was so much fun…"  
  
After Trance finished reminiscing, Beka grazed around herself at the Maru and began a tale of one of her own birthdays. "I remember celebrating my twelfth birthday here. Rafe was still here, and Dad was still… Dad. He gave me my first rock disc…" Her story was somewhat more subdued than Trance's, but full of rare, sweet memories.  
  
Then Harper started. "This is some great champagne-y, Beka! Woo! Right to my head." He staggered around to Beka and clapped her on the shoulder. "Good stuff, Bek, good stuff. So anyway, girls and boy, time for the Master Harper to regale you all with birthdays of his own tale!" He gestured grandly. "You guys don't wanna hear 'bout my birthdays on Earth. No way. Nothin' good there. Just Magog and U-, um, Nietzscheans. Sorry, Tyr."  
  
"I understand the Pride that enslaved your world was the Drago-Kazov, yes?"  
  
Harper nodded.  
  
Tyr growled. "Then by all means, continue."  
  
"Yeah, uh, right. So anyhoo, it was the year our good captain here brought me outta that hellhole and the year I first learned of Albu-" He grimaced. "of that drift with th'really long name I'm not even gonna try to say…"  
  
Beka sipped at her own glass and suppressed a chuckle. Good old Harper, drunk on unfermented grape juice.  
  
Finally, Tyr's turn came around. All eyes fell on him, and he cleared his throat. "I cannot promise to deliver a tale near as heartwarming as any of you."   
  
Beka smiled and punched his arm lightly. "You didn't need to tell us that Nietzscheans don't do sappy."  
  
He nodded. "Of course." He leaned against the wall, and a far-away look came into his eyes. "I was but fifteen years old. The Drago-Kazov would invade my home and murder my family a year later, but at the time, we knew naught of their plans for the Kodiak. My father, Barbarossa, held a tournament. He liked to precisely monitor the physical and mental progress of his children, one of whom would likely serve the Pride as its next Alpha…"  
  
An hour or so later, the party broke up. Trance settled her gifts around Hydoponics, Beka tottered back to Med, Harper stumbled off to bed, and Tyr disappeared to wherever Tyr disappeared to at night. Probably his room, to work out.  
  
As Beka walked, she thought back over the not-birthday goings-on. She laughed quietly, remembering Tyr's expression when Trance had wrapped her arms around him. "Moments I need a holo-recorder," she said aloud. Later, he had told his story, voice soft and rich with emotion. He looked all three of them directly as he spoke, but Beka could've sworn his eyes rested longest on her. And that brown leather vest he was wearing… he must've changed after leaving the cockpit. This new article fitted him gorgeously, a few shades darker than his complexion and cut to accent his built physique.  
  
"Okay, Bekie, let's do the shot, change the dressing, and take a nice, /long/, and very, very cold shower." Trance had left the injection out, and Beka prepared it hurriedly, hoping to slip out before Trance remembered to check up on her. She winced only a little as the needle punctured the soft skin on the inside of her elbow. With a practiced ease, she unwound the bandage and replaced it with a spotless length of tape and gauze.   
  
Forgetting her resolution to zip out of Med, Beka strolled dreamily around—and finally out of—the room. She'd always had a weakness for physical perfection, and next to Tyr, Bobby was balding with a glandular problem. "The universe just loves these little antics, I'm sure," she muttered. "I hope it's /amply/ amused by the sufferings of a poor Valentine."  
  
Then, a voice from behind her. "From what do you suffer, my lady?"  
  
/Funny. Very funny. Didn't even get my shower before this./ "Oh, uh, hi Tyr. Um, nothing, nothing really." /And we both know I'm lying like a Chichin selling used merchandise./ She was almost sure Tyr could hear her heartbeat racing and see her cheeks flushing. Conflicting urges to run away, to laugh, and to cry confirmed her suspicions that she was losing her marbles.  
  
"Beka, I must speak with you." Still standing behind her, he tentatively laid on his side, his fingers light on her stomach.  
  
She closed her eyes and swallowed. His hand felt like fire through her thin top. /And we're breathing. Think happy thoughts… wait, no happy thoughts! Sad, sad thoughts. Rrrr. Mad thoughts. Bobby, at the end./ Inexplicable anger seized her, and pain. /You really don't need this, Bekie./ And though it was among the hardest things she'd ever done, Beka wrapped her fingers around Tyr's and lifted his hand away from her. Thinking of Bobby back in Med had brought to the surface emotions she'd buried since… well, since the last time she'd had this internal conversation. Part of her wanted to pounce on Tyr, to give herself over to the warmth and affection of another person (a very attractive person, she might add, and a very attractive person who wanted a real relationship with her) and re-bury those memories, but she steeled herself against the heat she felt rising throughout her. "Not here, Tyr. Not now. I can't talk about… us. You know—you have to know—how I'm feeling right now." She turned around but couldn't meet his gaze, and, much to her horror, Beka felt warm tears pooling in her eyes.  
  
Tyr worked his hand so he was holding the trembling fingers that had halted his touch. "I know, Beka, but I don't /understand/." He bent his head down in an attempt to read her expression. "And now I see tears, and I do not understand those either."  
  
His voice was gentle and sounded bewildered, which wasn't helping Beka's weakening resolve to stay calm. "I don't /need/ this, Tyr. I don't need a guy who can… do you what you do to me… with a single look and then tangle me up inside. I don't need… I don't need /any/ guy right now who wants anything more than…" She suspected her words made even less sense to Tyr than they did to her.   
  
Before she walked away from him, she thought she at least owed him the decency of looking him in the eye as she left. "I don't need another guy who's going to leave me for a drug, or another woman, or some cause. And I don't /want/ to be afraid of that." Her voiced wavered, but it never quite broke. She loosened her hand from Tyr's and turned to leave.  
  
But he didn't let her go immediately. "Then I think I understand. But Beka, please, judge this… possibility I'm offering as something between you and me. Not you and your past." And he released her. 


	16. Harper Tries to Cut the Tension

Harper had very accidentally witnessed that very private moment between his two crewmates, and at first, he told himself to sit on it and shut up. They would put aside whatever lay between them and bind, gag, and toss him out the airlock together if they discovered his hidden presence from that night.  
  
Harper kept to that resolution for an admirable three days, and, in his defense, he broke it for the sake of the Maru's entire crew. In a ship of hundreds, tension between two people would probably go unnoticed by nine-tenths of their crewmaters. In a ship with a crew of four, however, tension between two people involved a full half of the crew, and the other half was walking on eggshells to avoid setting off the hair-trigger mood swings of the first half.  
  
And if mere tension weren't bad enough, Beka was injured, and /that/ meant she got to play backseat driver. Tyr was as quiet as a corpse around her and short-tempered with him and Trance, though the Nietzschean had managed something approaching an apology after the sixth outburst. Trance, for her part, snuck worried glances at Tyr and Beka and was keeping to herself more and more. When Harper asked her what was wrong, she only shook her head and whispered to herself that it was out of her hands now. Helpful. Harper wanted to scream.  
  
So on the fourth day, Harper scribbled a note on a spare flexi. /Tyr. Roses and chocolate—dark, caramel- or raspberry-filled. And soon, please./ When he was sure Tyr had left his quarters for the cockpit, he stole silently through the doors of the Nietzschean's room and left the flexi on his pillow. Though he was /very/ curious to see how Tyr Anasazi decorated his quarters, Harper also lived in mortal fear of Nietzschean wrath. Well, perhaps not /mortal/ fear of this Nietzschean, but Tyr was liable to snap his head off (figuratively, so far) at a moment's notice—and that was when Harper /wasn't/ breaking and entering.  
  
When Trance came across him a few minutes later, Harper was whistling. She cocked her head to one side and regarded him curiously. "Heya Trance, how's it goin'? What's up, what's shakin' what's goin' down with our resident violet vixen?"  
  
She smiled, warmed by his obvious—and very unexpected—good mood. "Um, it's going fine, the ceiling's up… um… and I'm not sure if anything's shaking or going down. But it's good to see /someone/ happy around here." Her voice lowered to a confidential murmur. "Have you noticed that Tyr and Beka are acting a little strange?"  
  
Harper coughed. "Um, yeah, a little. Now and then. You know, you've been a little…off yourself. You're not quite as… sparkly as usual."  
  
Trance nodded. "You're right, Harper. I've just been… thinking a lot. You know how sometimes you have a… puzzle, and you have a piece, and you think you know exactly where it goes? But then it doesn't fit in that spot, and you think maybe you know where it really goes, but you can't quite see that place right now?"  
  
It took Harper a few moments to sort through Trance's words. A puzzle? "Uh, sure Trance. Listen, all I know is this… thing going on with our illustrious captain and the local superman is driving me bananas." He was sure she'd ask him about that one later. "But I think that things are going to change /very/ soon." He attempted a cryptic grin. "I wouldn't be too surprised if Tyr were to stop by Hydroponics later today."  
  
"I don't know Harper," Trance replied doubtfully. "Tyr doesn't seem to like flowers very much."  
  
Beka's voice over the comm ordering Harper to haul ass to the cockpit cut their conversation short. Harper was whistling as he left, the first time the Maru had heard anything so cheerful in the past four days. 


	17. Tyr and Beka and Suspense Until You Read...

/I should really apologize to Harper./ Beka knew that she'd been… less than pleasant company for the past few days. Then again, he'd been whistling merrily when he'd entered the cockpit yesterday. But the upbeat tune had ceased after only a minute, stuck between her and Tyr. Maybe it was her imagination, but even Trance seemed a little quieter than usual.   
  
/But what would I say to him? Oh, Harper, it's just that time of the month?/ Not true, of course—she was on birth control, and part of its charm was that she had no time of the month. But did Harper know that? Hmm. She smiled. He'd probably turn green, shrug and mutter something, and then suddenly remember an extremely urgent repair if she told him that.  
  
No, she wouldn't lie to Harper, even about something as trivial as that. /Which brings us right back to the ol' drawing board./ Apologizing. To Harper, definitely. Well, maybe. She knew she'd been unreasonable towards everyone lately, and apologizing to Harper was one thing. Apologizing to Tyr… that was something else entirely. /Maybe you just don't want to be alone in a room with him in a capacity other than strictly business-like./ Or maybe it was just stupid Valentine pride.  
  
"I'll give it a few more days," she told the flexi she held in her wounded arm. It was strong enough for that, at least. "Who knows? Maybe my arm will heal overnight, and I'll conveniently contract a case of short-term amnesia. That should just about take care of things."  
  
Her door slid open, and she stiffened. Sneaking up on Beka Valentine really was never a good way to get on her good side. "I'm afraid I can do nothing for the arm, and I doubt very much that you would like my method of inflicting memory loss. I've heard it's quite painful." Tyr, naturally.   
  
Beka's mellow mood vanished, and she could feel nervous tension seeping into her neck and shoulders. She had been lounging on her bed, flipping through bills and junk mail, but now she sat up and raised her eyes to the Nietzschean. "Lucky me." She noticed that he held something behind his back. /Oh, and what do we have here, boys and girls?/ "Why yes, Tyr, of course you can come on in. No, I'm not in the middle of anything. Yes, I'm decent. A chat? Sounds lovely. Please, have a seat." Oh well. No one had ever claimed Beka to be much of a diplomat and for good reason. And sit Tyr did, on the edge of her bed. /Proximity alert, proximity alert! Bogey of unknown intent approaching. Handle with extreme caution. Repeat, handle with extreme caution./  
  
"I came by to apologize, Beka."   
  
/Captain, we weren't expecting this maneuver! Shields are falling. If he keeps this up, we'll be defenseless before long!/  
  
"Not for my words or my actions, but for the distress I seem to have caused you. Such was not my intention."  
  
/Captain, what are your orders? Do we engage the bogey, or make an excuse about a previous plan to wash our hair tonight?/ Hmm, a decision indeed. /Captain, we need a course of action—a battle plan! We must… no!! We're too late! The bogey is armed! Defenses will soon be completely overwhelmed! He has red roses, repeat, red roses. And chocolate! We're doomed for sure, Captain. We have no chance of resistance against these kinds of weapons./  
  
Beka took the flowers and breathed their sweet, sultry perfume. She smiled wryly and stood up to search her room for a vase or any hollow sort of cylindrical object. "You… it was bad timing, Tyr, that night. Very bad timing, but that's not your fault." Almost miraculously, she did find a vase. She turned and shot Tyr something of a grin. "Well, not completely your fault. And if those are caramel-filled, not your fault in the least." The closest source of fresh water was the head, conveniently located near the crew quarters. Beka employed the time it took to walk to the head, fill the vase, and return to put her thoughts in order. To try to put her thoughts in order. To ultimately fail to put her thoughts in order.   
  
She felt Tyr's eyes on her immediately when she walked back into her quarters. It had always seemed like such a bad serial holo-romance cliché, to feel someone's eyes on oneself. But right now, Beka felt as if she were in one of those holo-novels she hid under her bed anyway, so maybe it was appropriate. "I was thinking about Bobby that night, and it is /not/ the best time to proposition me, when I've been remembering him." She leaned against her nightstand, hands behind her back and eyes downcast. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I know you weren't propositioning me. I just…" Beka glanced up. "Hey, hand me those chocolates, will ya?"  
  
Tyr looked momentarily taken aback by this abrupt change of subject, but he recovered himself quickly and gave Beka the flat box. "Thanks." She bit one, and her eyes widened. "They /are/ caramel-filled. Whaddya know?" She swallowed and continued. "I know you're not a wham-bam, thank you ma'am kinda guy, Tyr. Believe me, I have vast experience with such shady characters; half of the people I run cargo for are one variety or another of shady characters. But like I said then, I'm afraid." She suddenly felt very tired.  
  
"I'm afraid… you'll leave when this mission is over. Or when some gangster needs someone to carry out a whacking. Or when…" she paused and refused to let her voice crack. If she didn't know better, she /would/ imagine it was that time of the month, or that some medication was responsible for these uncharacteristic mood swings. "Or when you find someone else, someone different. Someone Nietzschean."  
  
Beka made herself raise her eyes and saw… what? Confusion, hurt, anger, and indignation all danced across Tyr's perfect features. "Beka, you are not a… a second choice or some sort of contingency plan for me." He rose, walked toward Beka, and cupped her face in his hands. "You are beautiful and vivacious, capable and intelligent and a joy to be around." He gave her a smile. "And you possess reflexes any Nietzschean fighter pilot would envy."  
  
Beka tried to return her smile and did manage a brave effort. "It's not like… I'm looking for a lifelong commitment here or anything. Valentines are notorious commitment-phobes. I'm… I'm just not ready to throw my towel back into the ring, I guess. I'm not ready to spend a month, or six, or twelve, or whatever with someone, only to spend another two crying at night and trying to pretend everything's okay during the day." Beka sighed a hiccupy sigh.. "I don't worry about that with most of the guys I date, Tyr, but you are not most of the guys I date." Her voice cracked, and she decided it would be wise to let Tyr speak for a while.  
  
Tyr stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "Beka…" His voice came out little louder than a whisper. "Beka, I don't know what's going to happen, but I do know that if you… accept me, I will not leave you for a job or another woman—human or Nietzschean or Perseid." Beka didn't think there were female Perseids, but she didn't remember that she didn't think that. "I know you are not one of my people, and I certainly would not expect you to name me a husband and father. But Beka, I would never presume to enter into a relationship of this sort with you if I did not intend to remain with you for… a long time.  
  
"And I do, Beka. I want to stay on this ship after this operation is complete. I want to learn what goes on behind those sapphire eyes of yours. I want to see them sparkle when you laugh, and I want to soothe you when they weep."  
  
They wept now, a single tear that slid down each cheek. "When you put it like, Tyr… how could I say no?" She laid a hand on his but didn't make any attempt to remove it from her face. Instead, she slowly ran hers up his forearm—avoiding his boneblades—and drew him nearer. She kissed him tentatively, as if it were her first, and he responded every bit as uncertainly. But months had passed since anyone had touched Beka like this—touched her lips or her face or her heart like this—and she had never felt more alone that she had in the past few days, with Tyr so physically close but barricaded from her by a steel wall of her own making.  
  
The love of friends Beka had, but this kind had mostly passed her by. Or when Cupid had deigned to notice Beka Valentine, his arrows had turned out to be barbed, and the wound lasted long after his potion had faded. She didn't want to bleed like that again… but then Tyr's kisses lost their gentleness and became intensely passionate. She found herself answering and felt his strong hands on her flushed skin and hers on his vest and his kisses trailed down her neck…  
  
(and the author chose this moment to tastefully fade to black) 


	18. Harper Plots a Robbery and Complains Abo...

Not for the first time that week—or even that day—Harper reflected that his little suggestion to Tyr had worked out well. As he watched Tyr and Beka huddles together, hammering out the details of this 'voluntary extraction', he noticed a mutual comfort between them that hadn't been apparent a week ago. Considering his sentiments toward Nietzscheans in general, maybe it had worked a little /too/ well. Sure, he had wanted a little peace, some easing-up of the tension that had filled the air like a physical thing, but Harper didn't think he was quite ready to admit to himself the obvious… change in the nature of their relationship.  
  
At least they weren't acting like hormonal teenagers—a redundant phrase, Harper thought to himself. Beka and any Nietzschean playing kissy-kissy in the corner would be enough to make Harper /toss his cookies/ in the corner. Toss them over and over and…  
  
"Aah! No! Nothing over and over! Nothing! Aah, Tyr! Aah, Beka! Must think happy thoughts! Hmm… aah, not working! Hey Trance, pick up any good plants lately?" It was a desperate, last-ditch effot to rid himself of /very/ undesired mental imagery; Trance could go on for hours about her darlings.  
  
She was following Harper around the Maru's corridors, jotting down any problems the engineer noticed. They were docking at El Dorado Drift in a few hours, and Beka wanted a list of everything they'd have to acquire, legally or otherwise.  
  
"You really want to know about my plants, Harper? You know, I could set you up with a little garden of your own if you want. I know some really easy plants that you could take care of when you weren't working in the engine room." She wrinkled her nose. "Although I can't imagine why you'd want to work there at all. It's all dark and smelly, and there's nothing pretty there, just a lot of metal and buttons. Buttons can be neat, though, like when you see the prettiest light blue button, and no one else wants it, or else it wouldn't be lying there. You know, you can find a whole bunch of interesting things that people leave behind if you know where to look…" She trailed off and looked at Harper quizzically. "Weren't we talking about plants?"  
  
Harper grinned. "Huh? Oh, um, no. You were going to tell me about your days as Robin Hood, stealing… finding things from the rich and giving them to the poor. Remember?"  
  
Trance considered this and shrugged. "Are you sure? Well, okay then. There was this one time, a poor Ruby Than needed an AP solenoid valve, but the Chichin she'd bought one from had taken her money and left all the sudden, so I…"  
  
Harper let the wave of words wash over him. Nothing like purple pixie chatter to cleanse one's mind of the /wrong/ kind of nudie pictures. "Hey Trance--?"  
  
"Okay, okay, the Chichin's assistant /didn't/ give me the valve out of the goodness of his heart. But I know he wanted to, Harper; it's just that the system makes it so hard for Chichins to show their better natures."  
  
"Uh, that's great, Trance." While the girl had regaled Harper with tales of… Chichin assistants, it seemed, the engineer had made his way to the engine room. He ducked into various corners, checking switches and dials and buttons, wincing at the general state of the Maru's innards. "Aw, look at the wire—it's completely shot! If we're going to pull off this 'voluntary extraction', we're gonna need a total re-haul. I don't think the Princess--"  
  
"Duchess."  
  
"—excuse me, /Duchess's/ loyal subjects will be exactly thrilled to watch her escape while they're stuck behind. That means we're going to need us some Acme rocket shoes if we want to make it outta there in one piece."  
  
Trance looked down at her flexi. "Um, Acme rocket shoes?"  
  
Harper cradled his forehead in his hands. A civilization without Bugs Bunny was no civilization at all, purple pixie powers or not. "Just write down… something to speed up the AP reaction for a few minutes. I don't want to blow out the engines, but we're gonna need a major kick in the ass if someone isn't so happy to let the Duchess go free and decides to stop her. I'll think of the something later. And copper wiring up the ying-yang."  
  
A brief shiver in space/time announced the Maru's departure from the slipstream. Harper had never liked that shiver—he always feared, deep down, that they would be caught in that moment forever, hovering on the edge of a slip portal. Growing up on Earth hadn't prepared him for the oddities of space travel, and he didn't think he'd ever become as nonchalant about them as Beka. She liked telling people that she'd been /born/ in slipstream, and Harper didn't quite doubt her.  
  
"Hey, kids, this is your captain speaking. We've arrived safe and sound at El D., and not a mysterious, secretive, and deadly mercenary in sight, unless you count the Nietzschean standing next to me."  
  
Beside him, Trance smiled dreamily. "Aren't they cute together? I think it's wonderful that Tyr and Beka could overcome their differences and find a little peace, love, and understanding in this universe."   
  
"Yeah, it's great." Harper grimaced. "If only humans and Nietzscheans everywhere could look beyond their /centuries/ of conflict and discover something special, blah blah blah." If the Maru had a sarcasm detector, it would be registering levels rarely reached before throughout the span of civilization. "But we're at El D! Wine, women, and wiring!"   
  
"And water gardens!" Trance exclaimed.  
  
"Water gardens?" This was certainly news to Harper.  
  
Trance nodded enthusiastically. "El Dorado Drift has one of the most beautiful water gardens in this part of the Milky Way. Now, if you like tropical botanical gardens, Pierpont is a good place to go… although you have to be really careful, because stealing is legal there."  
  
Stealing! Now here was a subject /Harper/ could expound on for hours: the most easily bribed guards, the laxest security measures, and most lenient penal systems in the six galaxies he could rattle off before breakfast. "Legal for residents, that is. Ahh, Pierpont—the resting place of one of the Than's most sacred relics, the Hegemon's Heart. It's the crystallized heart of the first bug queen, or something. I hear Pierpont has a top of the line security system. Pressure-sensitive floors, nanobots, hidden cameras… man, I would /love/ to take a crack at Pierpont."  
  
A brief grin crossed Trance's face. "Harper, you're drooling."  
  
Harper's eyes widened as an idea struck him. "Hey Trance, can you, uh, hang from your tail?"  
  
"Well, yeah." Trance furrowed her brow. "Why?"  
  
But Harper had descended into his own world. "So that takes care of the floors. The cameras I can blind if I jacked into the mainframe. The nanobots would be the trickiest…"  
  
Trance shrugged and turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. "Hi, Beka!"  
  
The captain shot her a quick smile. "Heya Trance." She nodded toward Harper, who had progressed from muttering to grandly gesticulating to no one in particular. "He having an epileptic seizure or what?"  
  
"I think he's trying to figure out how to steal the Than heart from Pierpont," Trance replied uncertainly.  
  
"Pierpont?" Beka's eyebrows tried to climb her forehead. "Maybe he should stick to fixing my ship before planning the heist of the century. Harper!" she called sharply.  
  
He jumped. "Boss! Some advice: never sneak up on a guy who spent ten years of his life tip-toeing through Dragan barracks."  
  
"Right." Beka gave Trance a curious glance, and the girl shrugged in reply. "Do you have your list?"  
  
"Nope," Harper responded as he handed Beka the flexi.   
  
As Beka scanned the list, a crease appeared above her brow. "O-kay. I have enough credit for most of this, and I can get a couple more of these if I wear a really low-cut shirt and flutter my eyelashes--"  
  
"Ooh, careful, boss. That other guy on this ship might not approve."  
  
Beka's look very eloquently told Harper that he so did not just say that. "Harper?" Her voice was a little too sweet.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"No. Really, no. But a Nietzschean on our side /could/ help in convincing those cheap bastards at El D. not to rip us off." She paused thoughtfully. "Wait. El D. is run by the FTA, isn't it? Harper, is that grand theft charge still current?"  
  
" 'fraid so. Break out the fake ID's?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
Trance's face lit up. "Ooh, can I pick my name? I always thought 'Laura' sounded pretty."  
  
Beka chuckled. "Sure, Trance. They'll never suspect that Trance Gemini, the sparkly, purple girl with a tail could be Laura, the sparkly, purple girl with a tail."  
  
Trance looked perplexed as to whether Beka was kidding or not. "Um, okay."  
  
Beka activated the ship's comm.. "Tyr! You do falsified personal identification and ship's registrations?"  
  
"Is Harper cracking inappropriate remarks about a relationship that is hardly his business?" a dry voice asked in response.  
  
Beka laughed, Trance struggled to suppress a giggle, and Harper donned an air of injured dignity. "Gotcha. Oh, and Trance wants to be 'Laura'."  
  
"Understood."  
  
"But Beka, it is my business if my gorgeous, blonde captain is no available and getting funky with the resident Nietzschean," Harper pled.  
  
Beka almost choked. "Please, Harper, never again. Besides, it's only your business insofar as we aren't killing each other. Do you see us killing each other?"  
  
Harper considered a quip about 'le petit mort' but sagely decided against it. "Not anymore."  
  
At this, Beka relented. "Oh yeah. Sorry about that. But my arm is better now, and I'm no longer cursing the male half of the species, so I should be tolerable for a while."  
  
"Just one thing, Beka. If you get Tyr to go as your personal Nietzschean love slave while we're at El D., I swear I will worship you forever."  
  
Beka shook her head. "If you agree to work without pay forever, you're on." She laughed. "Thought not. I'll tell you guys when we begin our approach to civilization once again."  
  
Less than a quarter of an hour later, Beka's voice crackled over the com. "Mail call!"  
  
Trance cheered and then skipped all the way to the cockpit as Harper dashed along to keep up. He would never comprehend Trance's elation at the mail she received. "Last time, I got a letter saying I could start my very own religion for only a hundred guilders a month!"  
  
"A hundred guilders? I bet a sparkly babe like you could start a religion without paying a throne. In fact, I bet /they'd/ pay /you/."  
  
Trance smiled and said nothing. When they reached the cockpit, she ran to one of the sensor consoles and eagerly began to sort through her messages.   
  
"When you guys are done with your mail, I got your new identities here to upload into your wrist units. Which, by the way Harper, you are /not/ going to conveniently leave behind this time."  
  
Trance was Laura Lafée, a titled and certified expert xenobiologist. Harper was Dr. Paul Bacchae and quite incensed about it.  
  
"Paul?? What kind of mysterious, sophisticated, and unbearably sexy ladies' man name is /Paul/?!"  
  
Beka glanced at Tyr and grinned before she answered. "I think it's a joke on the part of the false identity manufacturer here."  
  
In a whisper everyone could clearly understand, Trance informed Harper that they probably meant Paul Museveni, the father of the first Nietzschean. Harper scowled. "Ha ha. Real funny, guys."  
  
Beka's turn to verbally protest her alias came about when she discovered the name Tyr had picked for her. "Isolde Francon? What the hell kind of name is Isolde?? Do I /look/ like an Isolde?"  
  
'That would be /Captain/ Isolde," Tyr said mildly. "Think of it as another… amusement of my part."  
  
Beka glared and grumbled. Isolde? It didn't even sound like a woman's name. "And you're Tristan d'Ancomia. Bodyguard. Hey, that must mean I'm either very rich or very important." Maybe Isolde wasn't such a bad idea after all.   
  
She read through her description. "Uh, wait a minute. We work for the Sabra and Jaguar Prides?" Isolde sank once more in Beka's estimation.  
  
"Come on, boss, first I get a name like Paul, and now I gotta be working for Nietzscheans?"  
  
Beka looked to Tyr. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to go with Harper on this one, unless you have a very good reason for this."  
  
Tyr nodded. "Of course. Your position is something of a mediator between the two Prides. It is a well-known fact that Charlemagne Bolivar is attempting to ally his forces with that of the Sabra. As they're Nietzscheans, they don't trust each other or anyone else with a vested interest—and all Nietzscheans have a vested interest. Therefore, the two Prides called on Captain Francon to moderate the negotiations."  
  
It sounded plausible enough, but Harper wondered aloud why 'Cereal Bowl' would choose them out of the billions of non-Nietzscheans sentients who wandered the cosmos.   
  
Tyr smiled faintly. "Because, Master Harper, the FTA will handle any sort of ambassador with kid gloves, and the meanest Chichin is unlikely to cheat someone two large Nietzschean prides hold in favor. If Charlemagne chose anyone else, well, we would be somewhat out of luck, wouldn't we?" 


	19. An OperaLovin' Perseid?

"I don't know, Mariah. I mean, I'm glad that Tyr and Beka are happy, but it's weird. It's like they're doing things in the wrong order." Trance was kneeling beside a crystal blue pool, addressing a slender, willowy tree with bright aqua leaves and fuchsia cones. She dabbled her fingers in the warm water and smiled at the shimmering gold and black velvet fish that swam sedately near her outstretched hand. "Whatever's not right, they've made it a little better, but I don't think everything's on track yet." Earlier, she'd secreted a roll from the buffet they'd visited last night. She crumbled half and sprinkled the bits into the pool. "Hello, sun-striped clownfish. I hope you like stale bread."  
  
Quiet peace engulfed Trance, but she could feel cacophonic threads disrupting the innate harmony of the universe, and they itched uncomfortably like frazzled wool against her skin. "I'm trying to make it better, but I can't see what's wrong." Her voice rose in frustration. "How can I fix what I can't find?" The clownfish began to bump into each other and sped crazily through the clear water. Their confused motion distracted Trance from her musings, and she hastened to calm the little creatures. "Oh, shh, I'm sorry, guys. Shh. Eat your lunch. There you go. Don't you guys worry; I'll figure it all out." A slow smile spread across her face. "And besides, in can't be /all/ bad whenever you can create a little more love in the universe."  
  
An excited Perseid interrupted Trance's meditations. "Miss Lafée! Oh, I'm so glad I found you. Do you remember the two dahlia remuls I showed you earlier?" He was bouncing on his toes, emanating nervous energy the way a star emanates heat. The skittery currents around him tickled Trance.  
  
"Oh yes. They're very beautiful." As soon as the Perseid—Dr. Leeter—had discovered that an /expert/ xenobiologist was on El Dorado, he had rushed to show her around the water garden he personally kept up. She was delighted with the personal tour and attention. "Is there something wrong with them?"  
  
"Well, yes, a little. Nothing too bad, I hope, but perhaps you could take a look at them."  
  
Trance rose and shook droplets from her fingers. "Of course I will. Bye, clownfish! Bye, Mariah!" The Perseid regarded her curiously but didn't say anything. After all, what could a Perseid really say about anyone else's odd behavior? "You know, Dr. Leeter, I've always admired your water garden here very much."  
  
The gray-blue man stumbled. "You're too kind, Miss Lafée, too kind. Why, if I had sufficient resources, I would create a self-sustaining paradise of marine flora and fauna that would stretch farther than the eye could measure. Unfortunately, beauty and science that cannot be used for profit are sadly unappreciated in these days, and I count myself lucky to have this little space."  
  
Trance laid a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Please, Doctor, call me Laura. And you should be proud of what you've made here. Beautiful things can make people happy for a little while or change their lives."  
  
A wavering smile broke over the Perseid's face. "Yes, thank you, Laura. Oh, and I must inquire after the names of your companions."  
  
Trance blinked. This was unexpected, especially from a chattery Perseid botanist. "W-what about them?"  
  
"Tristan and Isolde, yes? It reminds me of a song. You see, I like to listen to classical operas from all over the galaxies when I work—they relax me—and I believe Tristan and Isolde are characters from an ancient Earth opera. If I'm correct, the odds of that are really quite extraordinary, don't' you think?"  
  
Trance sighed in relief. It certainly /would/ be improbable that two people raised totally apart—one human and one Nietzschean, no less—with the names from some relic opera should /happen/ to meet and decide to travel together. She wondered what the story behind the names was, and if the meaning would tell her anything. "Tristan likes to say that they odds of any of us being born were astronomical, so nothing is too extraordinary if you think of it like that." And besides, what were the odds of a Perseid loving Old Earth opera?  
  
A light sparked in Perseid's black eyes. "You know, Laura, that is quite an interesting perspective. He's right, of course. In the case of birth by sexual reproduction, the odds of two parents meeting each other and deciding to mate at just the right moment and under the precise circumstances that should lead to our particular genetic combinations of their DNA… it's very highly improbable. Why, if I were to calculate the numbers, I'm sure it should seem almost impossible!"  
  
They arrived at the cove when the dahlia remuls slept at night. During the day, they could usually be found splashing and diving in the sandy shallows. Sure enough, two salamander-like lizards frolicked among the reeds. Trance sat on her heels and watching them for a moment before turning to Dr. Leeter. "They look happy to me."  
  
"Oh yes, yes, they seem quite content. I work very hard to make sure all the animals here lack for nothing. The problem, Laura, is that there are only two here, and it was almost a miracle that I could acquire them at all. So far, I have not been able to induce them to mate."  
  
Trance studied the creature awhile. "How long have they been here together?" One, spotted orange, crawled out onto the bank and gazed at her. She waved, and the remul hesitantly approached her. A few whispered words, and the tiny lizard dove back into the water.   
  
"Fascinating! Both remuls have been remarkably timid around anyone who comes near them. Let's see, I transported them here from Infinity Atoll a month ago."  
  
"Hmm." Trance pursed her lips. "Oh! A month ago it was winter on Infinity Atoll." Well, what passed for winter on Infinity. "They probably haven't adjusted to the sudden change in climate. They usually mate in the spring, so once they're used to it here, I bet you'll have lots of baby remuls. It'll probably take just a couple more weeks."  
  
The doctor clapped his hands delightedly. "Thank you very much, Laura, thank you. Of course, it all makes sense! How careless of me to neglect such a substantial influence. Tell me, how much longer do you think you and your companions will stay here at El Dorado?"  
  
A plum flush spread across Trance's cheeks. "A few more days. Um, Isolde and Paul still have to find everything we need to fix our ship, the /Valinor/."  
  
As they walked together around the gardens, Leeter and Trance discussed all manners of natural science and exchanged botanical anecdotes. It was a welcome respite from Trance's worried ruminations. She was also enjoying immensely the opportunity to talk with someone who shared some of the interests closest to her heart.  
  
A few hours later, an agitated human burst into the water garden. He looked around wildly, spotted a purple tale near a blue-barked fruit tree and ran towards it. "Um, Laura!"  
  
The girl rose. "Paul! Are you okay?" Anxiety radiated from his blue eyes.  
  
"Yeah, fine… well, no. Isolde and Tristan spotted some old friends of ours." He glanced at the Perseid near Trance. "You know, our /new/ friends. The ones who really don't like us very much?"  
  
"I-I'm sorry to intrude, Dr. Bacchae, but how can they be your old friends if they're new and don't like you very much?" the confused Perseid broke in.  
  
Harper looked expressively at Trance, who answered her companion. "They change their minds a lot. Dr. Leeter, I would love to come back and talk with you tomorrow, but I have to go now."  
  
Leeter assured Trance that he would certainly welcome her company anytime. He gave her a stiff little bow and returned to his sapphire tree.  
  
"Wow, Laura, it looks like the chinhead has a little crush."  
  
Trance playfully swatted Harper as he made kissy noises. "Paul! Dr. Leeter doesn't get to talk to people often, especially people who like plants and animals very much."  
  
Harper waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, say what you want. I know what I saw."  
  
At this, Trance giggled. "Paul, you always /think/ you know when a dancer or waitress likes you, but didn't the last one press charges?"  
  
"In love and war, Paul, uh… Paul…"  
  
"Bacchae," Trance supplied helpfully.  
  
"Right, Paul Bacchae never admits defeat!"  
  
Trance teased Harper mercilessly on the way back to the little café where Beka and Tyr awaited them. They were so deep in conversation that Beka positively jumped when Trance greeted her. "Oh! Hey… Laura. I'm sorry to drag you away from the friendly neighborhood Perseid, but did Paul tell you what happened?"  
  
She drew out the seat beside her, and Trance sat. "He said something about our old new friends who don't like us very much. Dr. Leeter was kinda confused. Paul /did/ mean the tee apostrophe dee aie el eye ehm aie are people, right?"  
  
Trance could see Beka mentally stringing together the words she'd spelled out. "Yeah, them. I was… uh… looking for something in El D's main computer-"  
  
"With a little help from yours truly," Harper injected.  
  
"-and I found a classified entry in the log of ships in the area from just last night. It was strange—I've almost never seen anything classified in that area before, unless there's some visiting dignitary no one's supposed to know about. So I checked it out…and it's them. The ship itself is Nietzschean, but our friends didn't even want to risk that much evidence of their presence. A little bargaining with the FTA, and only record of them is accessible by high-level intel. It's pretty dangerous if our friends find out about even that little bit."  
  
"High level intel and good-looking, super genius love gods."  
  
"Yes, and delusional megalomaniacs," Tyr rumbled.  
  
Before Harper could reply in kind, Trance asked the three why they thought the T'dalimar had shown up. "Maybe they're trying to scare us… or trying to warn us." Her eyes rested on Tyr. "Maybe they're trying to tell us something."  
  
He steadily returned her gaze. "I doubt it. The T'dalimar do not /scare/ people. They don't have to."  
  
Trance bit her lip. "But… if they're mercenaries, don't they do what their boss tells them to?" She couldn't see why the T'dalimar had begun to appear, and that bothered her as much as anything. After all, she definitely couldn't fix things if she or any of the crew died right now. Shadowy suspicions floated around her mind, but she refused to let them take shape—she didn't like what they signified for her mission or what they said about her friends.  
  
Beka looked from Trance to Tyr. "She's right about that, but would the T'dalimar risk their secret for a few thousand thrones?"  
  
Tyr leaned across the table. "Try a few million."  
  
Silence reigned as the four pondered the situation. Then, Harper spoke up. "I don't know about you guys, but I vote we stay here for a while. I know we have to practice, Isolde, but the expression 'practice makes perfect' only applies to the living. How about we hang around here a little longer? Laura can bond with the chinhead, Isolde and Tristan can convince dealers to give us what we need… in their own special ways, and I can find an El D darlin' who likes a man with a title."   
  
Beka sighed. "For the record, I don't like it, but I agree. We'll lay low, make friends, and hope this blows over. Maybe our friends just wanted an AP solenoid valve." 


	20. Harper Makes Kissy Noises and is Hit

"This woman is insane!" The Maru's crew had gathered in Beka's cramped room and were staring aghast at a vid of a regal young woman reprimanding one of her bodyguards. "I think I'm gonna have /way/ too much fun with this."  
  
Onscreen, a human woman with brown eyes and Cleopatra-style black hair screamed at a burly man in a dark uniform. "I could have been /killed/, you incompetent meathead, and you just /stood/ there and smiled at the crowd! Are you really that /brainless/ and /vapid/ and /dimwitted/?! Or… or are you in league with the rebels? Ha! I'll wager that's it! Captain! I want you to take this /useless/ heap of stinking /blubber/ piled on my /best/ silk rug and question him for /treason/!"  
  
Beka paused the vid. "Wow. Useless heap of stinking blubber. This Aricia would make a great captain if her crew didn't mutiny within the first hour."  
  
Trance, as always, tried to make the best of things. "Maybe… she was just cranky that day."  
  
"That day?" Harper laughed and pointed to a stack of vids three feet high. "Try that /decade/. I don't think even you can save this one, Trance. She's royally certifiable. Hey, Tyr, if she's just some duchess, how come she's ruling this system like the lovechild of Hitler and Ivan the Not-so-Great?"  
  
Tyr was carefully studying the enraged figure frozen on the small screen. "She isn't a duchess in the traditionally hierarchical sense of the word. It's a title bestowed upon their government's ruling authority." Now he looked over and smiled sardonically. 'The people of Merriam-Webster felt that the usual terms—king and queen—might go to a leader's head."  
  
Beka choked on her juice. "Yeah, we wouldn't want that. I don't know, guys, do you really think I can pull it off? Oh, and remember, there's no right answer to that."  
  
"Don't worry, Beka. If you put your mind to it, I know you can do it," Trance piped up.  
  
Beka laughed. "Gee, Trance, if you were talking about anything other than convincingly portraying the part of a psychotic, raging bitch, I'd be flattered." She continued the vid, leaned back on her bed, and passed the popcorn to Harper as the Duchess Aricia went off on another maniacal harangue.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"So /I/ get to be captain of the Maru??"  
  
Beka rolled her eyes. "Only for a very, /very/ short while. Aricia's 'secretary'," she emphasized the last word with finger quotes, "me, and Tyr worked it out. I would've called you and Trance, but FTA guys were out in full force, looking for some big-shot thief they think stopped by here a few days ago. They tiptoe around Isolde Francon, but some zealous up-and-comer might've recognized you and especially Trance. They're usually too lazy around here to check every ship and every crew for every wanted criminal, but they called in some slightly more alert people to nab this guy.  
  
"Anyway, we got everything planned out. Tyr will go down to the planet for two weeks before the extraction, you get to captain my ship, Trance bonds with the locals and gauges the rebels' power and support, and I get to be Her Royal Spoiled Brat."  
  
"As we learned at the Marathon of the Medusa," Harper finished. "So… Tyr's gonna be gone, huh?"  
  
Beka ran her fingers through her hair. "Yeah. He's leaving at the end of next week, and we'll meet back up with him on the day of the operation. He has to get in with Aricia's bodyguards—only she and her secretary slash spy know what's going on."  
  
"Are you… um, you know, you guys are…"  
  
"We're fine." Awkward silences were rare between the two friends, but now one hung heavily in the air. "Uh, how's my ship? Did you get everything you need, or do I need to flout my diplomatic prowess again?"  
  
Harper looked up and shook his head. "Oh no, we're good. The parts dealers are only too happy to work for a favorite of ol' Cereal Bowl." He made a face. "I've sworn them to secrecy, Beka, but I wouldn't trust those guys as far as a Perseid could throw them."  
  
Beka sighed deeply. "You're telling me the choice is between staying and being tracked by Jaguar Nietzscheans or leaving and running into the T'dalimar again?" Her smile was tight. "Great."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"Laura? I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I have some important news of our employers I must share with you."  
  
Trance turned and looked at Beka. Outwardly, the captain looked calm enough, but worry and irritation sparked from her. News of their employers? Supposedly the crew of the Valinor was working for Charlemagne Bolivar… so they'd heard something major about the Jaguars. And if it were good news, Beka would've waited until that evening to tell her while they ate together.  
  
Dr. Leeter stepped forward, completely unaware of Beka's inward agitation. "Ms. Francon? May I say how delighted I am to meet you!"  
  
Trance smiled at the doctor's enthusiasm. "Oh, I'm sorry—I didn't introduce you guys. Dr. Leeter, this is Isolde Francon, captain of the Valinor. Isolde, this is Dr. Leeter. He maintains this garden all by himself."  
  
Beka nodded courteously. "It's most impressive, Doctor." Now that she saw it up close, it really was a beautiful place. "I hope you're very proud of yourself for creating such a lovely haven." This haute speech was difficult to sustain for very long, and Beka had to concentrate not slip into her usual mode of discourse.   
  
"Thank you, Ms. Francon, thank you. I know you have pressing business, but I must comment on the names of you and your companion, Tristan d'Anconia."  
  
"Our names, Doctor?" Beka carefully kept a note of anxiety from creeping into her voice.  
  
"Yes, the story of Tristan and Isolde." At her polite but confused expression, the Perseid continued. "Are you not aware, then? Hmm, perhaps it is merely a coincidence after all, or perhaps I am mistaken."  
  
"Perhaps." Beka doubted that the Perseid was indeed mistaken. "I'm sorry—Laura, can you spare a few minutes?"  
  
"Sure! Bye, Dr. Leeter—say hi to the remuls for me!"  
  
Once they had left the water garden, Beka asked Trance about the remuls. "They're these cute little lizards. One has bright orange spots, and the other is dark red. Dr. Leeter was having a little trouble with them, but I think they'll be okay."  
  
Beka turned and looked closely at her crewmate. "I'm really glad that you've made a friend here, Laura. It must be nice to find someone you can connect with who really appreciates your gift with plants and animals."  
  
Trance smiled up at the blonde woman. "It is fun helping Dr. Leeter, but I'm part of your crew, Isolde. I know that you appreciate me for all of me."  
  
Beka put an arm around the girl and grinned. "Damn straight."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"So that's our situation, kids. I vote we leave and begin rehearsing the mission, but at this point, I'm open to anything."  
  
Harper shook his head. "The old stuck-between-a-rock-and-bunch-of-secretive-extra-creepy-mercenaries. I don't know, boss. Maybe if we stay in the system, our old friends will keep away, and our new friends won't find us. It sucks as a plan, but what else can we do?"  
  
Beka nodded grimly. "Yeah—Laura?"  
  
The purple girl looked around uncomfortably. "I don't know, Isolde. I mean, I really don't know. I'm sorry."  
  
With a small smile, Beka rubbed Trance's shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay, Laura. Sometimes you just gotta fly by the seat of your pants. Luckily for you guys, that was my best subject in school. Tristan?"  
  
"There's no /good/ course of action available to us." In an uncharacteristic public display of affection, Tyr stroked Beka's hair tenderly. "But I have complete confidence in your judgment and abilities. If you say we leave, we leave."  
  
A flush rose into Beka's cheeks, but the kissy noises from Harper prevented her from getting all googly-eyed and dreamy. She whapped him but couldn't help laughing a little. "So we're agreed? All right. We'll leave tomorrow, after we bid our adieus. We stay in the system—it's mostly abandoned outside of El D, but after their little run-in with FTA security, let's cross our fingers that they won't venture near 'em again anytime soon,." Beka stifled a yawn. "And that's that. Now let's order!" She grinned. "Might as well get something good, cos the bill's on Charley's tab." 


	21. Harper Only Gets Them Killed Once

Beka awoke to the by-now familiar sensation of a strong arm resting lightly on her waist. She loved waking up like this—before the day truly began, with a few moments to luxuriate in this sense of warmth and safety. All she wanted to do was lay there and ponder the contrast of his coffee-colored skin against her own fair complexion, his dangerous bone blades mere inches from her vulnerable body.  
  
Then she remember the specifics of /this/ day and slumped prostate against Tyr's still form. Now that she'd thought of it, she couldn't avoid the morning any loner, so she quietly eased her way out of bed. Logically, she knew Tyr could feel and hear her movements, but it was like a game they placed—she got up early, careful not to disturb him, and he let her pretend that she could slip past a sleeping Nietzschean mercenary. Usually, she smiled at this silent interplay, but today, it was all she could do to keep a tear from sliding down her face.  
  
She took a couple of her rock discs with her and padded silently from her room. The ship's illumination was low, but Beka could've traversed it half-asleep, backward, and in complete darkness—she had before. When she entered the Mess Hall, the captain brewed a pot of coffee and scavenged around for a muffin or roll, simultaneously telling herself she should eat and accepting the knowledge that she would not.  
  
Beka sipped the stale-tasting beverage and hummed along with one of the discs, bobbing her head in time with the music as she stared blankly at the wall. A slightly more fresh pastry sat at her elbow, untouched. Her and her crew had been practicing the extraction constantly over the past week, stopping to sleep and sweep the sensors for any other ships in the area, but it wasn't exhaustion that caused her feet to drag and drained her of the will to move.  
  
If she got up, if she went to the cockpit and called the crew to gather, the day would begin. If the day began, eventually the hours would wile away, and the day would end. And then Tyr would leave.  
  
The disc started over, Beka took another sip of lukewarm coffee, and Trance slipped into the room, so quietly that Beka didn't notice her presence until the girl sat down across from her. "Good morning, Beka."  
  
Beka summoned a smile and replied in kind.  
  
"Do we get to practice everything again today?"  
  
This time, Beka's smile was genuine. Only Trance would ask if they "got" to do it all over again. "That's the plan. But later we gotta slip to Seneschal Drift. Aricia's super spy left a ship there in Tyr's name, so he's gonna take off Merriam-Webster tonight." Her voice was as bland as her coffee.  
  
Trance looked curiously at Beka's mug. "Is that stuff really good?"  
  
Captain Valentine blinked at the sudden change of subject. "Uh, no. In fact, I was thinking that we should pick up some more supplies at Seneschal. Why?"  
  
Trance shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I just saw you come in here like an hour ago, and it doesn't look like you've been… doing anything."  
  
"Ahh, then it's a counseling session, Dr. Gemini? All right then, I'll just get straight to the point." As she spoke flatly, Beka didn't register the slightly hurt and confused look that passed over Trance's face, which soon became replaced by one of sympathy as Beka continued. "I'm in… I'm involved with a Nietzschean mercenary." Divine help her, she still couldn't say it out loud. "True, he's not your average shoot first, screw the questions kinda Nietzschean, but he's just as bladed as any of 'em. So, not only am I in a relationship with a Nietzschean mercenary, but he's leaving tonight. And it's funny… I believe him /completely/ when he tells me that he doesn't want to go. But it doesn't matter what we want cos we have a job to do. We have a job, and if we 'forgot' to show up, we'd not /only/ be defaulting on a contract, but also letting down that priestess of hell who's counting on us. And let us not forget, we'd be black-balled from here to Infinity." She swallowed coffee to wet her throat a little.  
  
"So he's leaving, and I also believe him when says that he wants some kind of future with me, but I can't help hearing this note of… uncertainty in his voice. It's probably not even /there/, Trance, but I still hear it, and I wonder what right he has to doubt himself, and why he would doubt /anything/. What could go so wrong that Tyr would question its outcome if he had anything to do with it, this highly-reputed mercenary at whose name mere mortals tremble…  
  
"What's going to go wrong, Trance?" Beka had mostly been speaking to herself, but now her wide, blue eyes met Trance's.  
  
And in return, Beka saw the most helpless expression she'd ever seen on her mysterious crewmate's face. "I don't know, Beka. And usually I can… guess pretty well at it, but now I just don't know." Her big brown eyes looked lost. "Beka, since you could trust me enough to tell me a secret, I'm going to tell you one of mine. Don't try to understand it, and don't worry about it."   
  
She reached across he table and grasped one of Beka's hands. "Just please, listen." Beka nodded wordlessly. "Things aren't going like I had… guessed they would. Like the T'dalimar? If I had a million guesses, I would never have thought that we would run into them. I thought we'd be somewhere much different right now, on a job that you couldn't imagine in your wildest dreams." She smiled, but it was a whimsical smile and sad. "And Rev is supposed to be here and Dyl-" the flow of words stopped abruptly. "But then Tyr came, and I thought 'okay, maybe we're just doing things a little out of order.' But it's worse than that, Beka. We still /might/ get that job, and if everything works out with the Duchess, it could happen very soon. I just…" Beka thought incredulously that she had heard Trance's voice crack, but it was so brief that she dismissed the notion. "I get this really terrible feeling sometimes." The girl's voice was almost inaudible.  
  
"Ladies," a deep voice hailed from the entrance to the Mess Hall. The two women jumped, and a subconscious part of Beka's brain noted that this was the first time she'd ever seen Trance startled. "The Maru's computer informs me that a new day has dawned, figuratively speaking." He walked over to stand in front of their little table and bowed in turn to both of them. "Shall we to greet the morning?" When they rose, he gallantly offered an arm to each, and so they made their way to the cockpit. At first, Beka wished with every step that they lights would suddenly fail, merely to give her a reason to delay this upcoming moment, but after a while, she found a growing sense of determination and assurance that she could do this after all. Worrying all day about an hour yet to come could neither hasten nor delay the inevitable.  
  
Beka vaulted into the pilot's seat and switched on the comm. "Harper! Moveth thine ass to the cockpit or faceth the wrath of thine captain who was up way too late last night." She turned around at the sound of quick footsteps. "Just barely missed a smiting, Seamus."  
  
Harper waggled his eyebrows. "Don't tease, boss."  
  
Beka rolled her eyes good-naturedly and turned back to face forward. With a few efficient movements, she took over the ship's navigation. "All right, kids, we're going over disaster scenario #83B, mechanical failure due to sabotage. Now, we all know that if anyone touched my baby with a even a suspicion of a /thought/ of hurting her, I would break his thumbs, and then tear /off/ his arms and beat him to death with them. But as I'll be posing as Queen of the Bitch people, Harper and Trance will have to be in charge of the bludgeoning, as well as fixing my ship. So once we land, I'll get off the ship, sneak back on, mess around with my baby's innards, and sneak back off. Then Tyr and I will come back… as, you know, ourselves… and you guys'll have to be ready to go within three minutes of our arrival. Got it?"  
  
Trance clapped her hands. "It's like hide-and-seek and fix the can!"  
  
Beka bit back a giggle. "Sorta, Trance."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Harper stared at his console, jabbed it viciously, and stared some more. "Trance, what the /hell/ did Beka do this time?" He stared, jabbed, and stared.  
  
Trance smiled. "That's your job, Captain Harper. By the way, what does this mean? It says the engines are going to turn red."  
  
The engineer glanced at Trance's console. "Turning… aw man, they're redlining! Uh, Trance, do you know if Beka set any safety limits to out little game?"  
  
All he received in reply was a shrug and "You're the Captain." Harper swore and dashed to the engine room.  
  
Outside, Beka whistled cheerfully and checked her wrist computer. "Hey Tyr, Captain Super Genius has a minute before the Maru explodes and strews bits of mudfoot DNA around the place. Whaddya say we go aboard and add just a little /more/ stress to his life?"  
  
Tyr looked to the Maru. "I would be delighted, Captain Valentine."  
  
Back inside the Maru, Trance informed Harper over the comm. That Beka and Tyr had just entered the cockpit. "Hey Harper!" Beka added. "Crazy rebels out there trying to break in, engines are about to combust, and Aricia here woke upon the wrong side of Satan's altar this morning."  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow at the stream of invectives that crackled over the comm system and shot Trance a smile. "How're you holding up?"  
  
The girl returned the gesture as her fingers danced over a console. "Environmental systems are good."  
  
A chuckle escaped Tyr's lips. "As they have been on every practice run today. I believe Miss Gemini has the… run of things quite well."  
  
Klaxons died, and a grubby human sped around a corner. "Hey, boss," he panted. "The su… the super genius love god… triumphs again," he bragged between breaths.  
  
Beka ruffled her engineer's hair and slung an arm around his shoulders. "All right, guys, we only died once today. I think this earns us dinner at Cavanaugh's."  
  
Harper's eyes popped. "Cavanaugh's? I know I'm good… no, great, but you're gonna have to sell the Maru just to bribe the maître d' to give us a table!"  
  
Tyr stirred from his deceptively casual pose, leaning lazily on the wall. "It might get you that far, but not beyond the wine list. Luckily, you have in your midst a highly-renowned soldier-of-fortune with a number of very fortunate bank accounts scattered around the Known Worlds. Think of it as a… parting gift." His eyes slid to Beka and rested on her for a moment.  
  
Trance bounded over from her post to wrap Tyr in a warm, purple embrace. "That's so nice of you, to take all that money you earned and spend it on us!" She backed away, smiling from ear to ear. "I can't wait! I'll go put on my new outfit!"  
  
"How much you wanna bet it's purple?" Harper remarked after Trance had left.  
  
Beka laughed. "You'd better follow her lead, then. They're definitely not gonna let you through the doors like you just climbed out of my engines." She assumed piloting control and glanced back at Tyr. "Have I told you how much this means to me? Harper and Trance and I are all used to those places were a week without a fatal case of food poisoning is cause for celebration."  
  
He chuckled quietly. "Money is not an end in itself, Rebecca, but rather, man's happiness is. I'm glad that I can make you and friends happy with the money I've earned."  
  
"Someone's been reading Ayn Rand again," Beka said in a sing-song tone.  
  
She could well picture Tyr's astonished expression. Well, astonished as in a slight widening of his eyes. "I thought you told me you knew nothing of philosophy."   
  
Beka shrugged innocently. "What is it you say? Unpredictability is the mark of a thoughtful soldier?" She activated the ship's exotic matter lens. "Brace for slipstream!" Without breaking her concentration, she flipped a switch to play whatever music disc she'd left at the pilot's station.   
  
An electronic guitar punctuated a stream of fast, staccato lyrics. "Alien Ant Farm!" she cried out and began singing along. "…you've been hit by, you've been struck by the smooth criminal. Do do di di do do…" The quick, aggressive music suited the slipstream navigation perfectly. 


	22. Harper is Looking Good at Cavanaugh's

A/N: Guess what? The dinner items I mention are from a place called "Anasazi Restaurant"! Usually, I wouldn't describe them in so much detail, but I had to pay homage to the Anasazi restaurant. I ate there once, with my dad. It's in Santa Fe, near the mile of galleries, and is expensive. Of course, I had to get my picture taken there, and I brought back one of those sample menus. It's my sacred relic!  
  
And the song is by Norah Jones.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The melodic tones of a harp and the quiet murmur of polite conversation filled the spacious first floor of one of the most well-known restaurants throughout the Known Worlds. A soft, golden glow seemed to settle upon every piece of furniture, every utensil, and everyone like an expensive varnish. Simply liveried staff flitted from table to table to kitchen so skillfully and silently that the establishment seemed to run like an oiled machine.  
  
Any place where light laughter and loving glances passed between the patrons were more common than bullets and shouting matches was almost alien to Beka. She looked down at herself and smoothed her clothing. For the most part, Beka detested dresses, so she wore black satin pants with a crimson stripe down the outside of each leg, an illusively sheer top of the same dark red with a single, loose sleeve, black leather ankle boots, and three scarlet armbands on her uncovered arm. She even tipped her short hair in a matching shade.  
  
She wished that she could take a picture of her crew that evening; in their best clothes, everybody looked so content and relaxed. Trance was sleek in a dark purple, velvet catsuit, a pink belt, and pink and purple streaks among her blond curls, her new furry purse hanging from her shoulder. Harper looked as if he might actually have a chance with a girl who /wouldn't/ demand payment, wearing in black pants, a white dress shirt, and a not-too-formal black jacket with dark blue piping. And then there was Tyr... the omnipresent leather pants with a dark grey, high collared and very well-fitted shirt with loop and hook clasps down its side, his full-length black leather duster, and smoky silver gauntlets. He looked like a general or prime minister, taking a few hours from the endless challenges of his position to enjoy the rewards of his work. The garments themselves looked almost plain in their simplicity, but the fabric and cut belied their expense. The effect was like that of a high-ranking military uniform, supremely efficient, capable, and aware of his surroundings.  
  
A slow smile crossed Beka's face. /And ladies, he's all mine./  
  
"Ready, kids?" They stood in the ivory-carpeted lobby, gazing at the unobtrusive elegance of the place.  
  
Trance nodded eagerly. "I love Cavanaugh's! I've only been here once before, a long time ago, and it was great! I mean, although I didn't really know what I was eating."  
  
Harper straightened his sleeves. "See, Beka? I told you it was a good idea to let this guy on board."  
  
Beka laughed as happily as she ever had. Tyr offered her his arm, and behind them, Trance grabbed Harper's hands and skipped to the maître d's podium. The Makra's green eyes studied Tyr a split second longer than the others, and he nodded gravely at the Nietzschean. "Mr. Anasazi," the low voice was almost a purr, "may I say how lovely you and your companions appear tonight. Please, follow me to your table."  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow. "Friends with the guys at Cavanaugh's? I'm impressed."  
  
They sat at a dark wood table draped in dark green damask, matching elaborate vines curled around gold and clouded crystal lanterns set high on the walls. Harper sat very still, apparently overawed by the luxurious setting. For a moment, Beka felt melancholy, wishing that Harper hadn't grown up on such deprivation that a place like this could have such an effect on him. Then she saw Trance whisper something to him, and he cracked a smile.   
  
Her crew ordered Kir Royals and Beka sparkling water lightly flavored with limes and raspberries. They clinked glasses to Tyr's toast of life and love and Harper's of luck.  
  
Their waiter solemnly recited the evening's specials and patiently explained half of the menu's items to Trance without a trace of disdain or annoyance at her questions. Beka suspected that she even saw the dignified man's lips twitch at the girl's merriment.  
  
Before the main course, fragrant bread was delivered to their table, along with half a dozen garnishes, then steaming soups, little appetizer dishes called /antipasti/, and finally, a small bowl of sorbet. Trance asked the waiter why they served dessert before supper, and he replied respectfully that the sorbet was meant to cleanse the palate.  
  
Their aperitifs were refilled, and then dinner drink orders taken. Tyr ordered a bottle of Merlot, and Beka decided on something called a rose lassi on the waiter's recommendation. He didn't even blink when he she told him that she never drank.  
  
Finally, the time for the main course rolled around. Tyr ordered cinnamon-chile rubbed beef medallions, which came with white cheddar mashed potatoes and mango salsa. Trance chose at last pan-seared scallops with angel hair pasta with grilled vegetables and two pestos after she discovered what scallops and pestos were. Harper got grilled New York strip with cactus pear demi and poblano-white cheddar scalloped potatoes, probably because of the reference to the Earth city. After much deliberation of her own, Beka settled on on pan-roasted gulf shrimp in an habanero-mango glaze with a sie of grilled corn tortilla and lime soup with white cheddar and snake cracker.   
  
Naturally, everything was delicious. Their conversation stayed on light topics—no mentions of the T'dalimar, Aricia, or Tyr's forthcoming departure were made by silent agreement. The wine made Trance hiccup, and everyone tasted a bite of everyone else's food. For dessert, they ordered /tiramisu al marscapone e caffe/ (translated into Common by Tyr) and each different hot coffee beverages.  
  
When they had finished eating and were nursing their still-warm dessert coffees, no one hurried them to pay and leave. They lingered for nearly an hour, conversing about this and that and the general state of things before Tyr hailed the waiter and handed him a credit disc.   
  
They still had a few hours until Tyr would go his separate ways, so while Trance and Harper prowled around the drift, Bijou du Ciel, Tyr and Beka found an upscale lounge with a bar and a full dance floor. They spent their remaining time together in each other's arms, the music in the background only half-heard.  
  
A woman dressed in blue came up on the stage and began singing soft jazz tunes. Half the dancers left to sit down at small tables, and several new couples entered the floor, holding each other just as were Tyr and Beka. To her surprise, Beka noted that the songs were in English, just like her rock songs. They left after the woman's final song, which would stay with Beka for days afterward.  
  
She alerted Trance and Harper via their wrist units that it was time to leave. The other two crewmembers looked a little subdued when they met up with Beka and Tyr, obviously aware of the significance of the night.  
  
The slip to Seneschal was an easy one, and no one spoke aloud an unnecessary word. Beka was trying to focus on the slipstream, Trance and Harper whispered between themselves, and Tyr was... busy with thoughts of his own.  
  
When they docked, Beka stood at the airlock as Tyr collected his few things, and Harper and Trance hovered near her awkwardly. Tyr emerged with his small bags, eyes locked on Beka. Trance drew Harper back to give the two time to say their goodbyes. Beka couldn't understand why she felt so reluctant to let him go—after all, it would only be two weeks apart. She felt uneasy too, as if afraid of what could happen in these upcoming days, which she told herself was completely ridiculous. Tyr could handle himself very well… and she discovered that it really wasn't his physical survival that concerned her. It was something else, something she couldn't quite name, or didn't dare to.  
  
Tyr set down his bags. "Two weeks, Merriam-Webster, noon." His dry, factual words didn't match his soft, warm tone or the expression in his dark eyes.  
  
Beka smiled painfully. "It's a date."  
  
He cupped her face in one hand and brushed back a strand of hair, as he so often did. He kissed her very lightly, then drew back and gazed down at her. "Until we meet again, Rebecca." He lifted his bags once more and walked quietly out of the airlock.   
  
Trance came forward and wrapped her tail around Beka's shoulders in a sort of embrace, and Harper walked close beside her. The song from earlier that night played in Beka' head as she tore her eyes from the outer door to return to her quarters for the night.  
  
/Come away with me in the night  
  
Come away with me  
  
And I will write you a song  
  
Come away with me on a bus  
  
Come away with me where they can't tempt us  
  
With their lies  
  
I want to walk with you  
  
On a cloudy day  
  
In fields where the yellow grass grows  
  
knee high  
  
So won't you try to come  
  
Come away with me and we'll kiss  
  
On a mountain top  
  
Come away with me  
  
And I'll never stop loving you  
  
And I want to wake up with the rain  
  
Falling on a tin roof  
  
While I'm safe there in your arms  
  
So all I ask is for you  
  
To come away with me in the night  
  
Come away with me/ 


	23. Harper Slippilots and Does Not Crash

A/N: Get ready for a short chapter a-comin' up. I think it counts as ironic that one of the shortest chapter deals with the single longest span of time contained in a single bit.   
  
But fear not! The climactical chapter will very soon follow, then an epilogue, and then… it's over? Weird. I never thought it really /would/ end.   
  
And guess what? There's a ref to the city wherein I was born! Awww…  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
To Beka's relief, the Maru's small crew never saw the T'dalimar after Tyr left in the two weeks before the mission. To her chagrin, they were forced to dodge inquisitive Jaguars who had heard rumors of the human mediator and her Nietzschean bodyguard at El Dorado. Tyr's false identifications were skillfully designed; the Nietzschean hunters were able to track them only by accounts given by shopkeepers and passer-bys.   
  
They stayed another day at Seneschal, shopping for supplies like fresh coffee, foodstuffs, and Sparky Cola. They left when Trance casually mentioned that a bunch of Nietzscheans had docked, supposedly looking for Tristan d'Anconia and Isolde Francon. Within the hour, they had slipped away to the quieter Phaiakian system, possessing a single inhabited planet, unimportant to empire-builders and major traders but peaceful and self-sufficient. There was a small orbital habitat, Skheria Island, for a few natives but mostly the small merchants who stayed within the sector. Beka happened upon a tiny shop where a broken-faced Umbrite sold real, freshly-made chocolate, grown and processed on the system's populated world. She wondered how long it would be before an enterprising businessperson discovered and exploited this rare diamond in the rough.  
  
One day, Trance suggested that they leave Skheria Island in case the Jaguar traced them there. She seemed strangely urgent that the ambitious Nietzscheans not stumble upon this prosperous and safe little planet, so Beka conceded. Harper begged that they visit the world itself before they vacated the system, and although Beka generally hated the unpredictable weather, polluted and unstable environments, and limitations of life planetside, she agreed.  
  
When they arrived, they left the city, and Beka thought she could see why Harper had been so eager to see the place. A wide, blue-grey ocean rolled endlessly under a cloudless sky and golden sun, and trees of all sorts spread their green canopies outside the city limits. She might've expected a sad wistfulness from her engineer, for the world was a striking recollection of Earth before the Fall, back when humanity was proud to call it home.   
  
Instead, he was energetic and more talkative even than Trance the entire time. He climbed a tree with large, serrated leaves and exclaimed that he could see for miles. He teased Beka about her fear of heights as a space pilot, to which she replied that it wasn't the height she feared but that the gravity and the long way until the ground was what she didn't like. Trance picked over a dozen rainbow-hued flowers, and the pollen made Beka sneeze. After much persuading, Trance and Harper even convinced their captain to try a small, wild pear from what looked to be an abandoned orchard. She swore that if she contracted some kind of parasite from the fruit, she would never set foot on a planet again.  
  
They slipped to Des Moines Drift, a community with a thriving order of Wayist monks and acolytes, where they were to receive the official request from Aricia's staff to bring supplies to her personal estate. Des Moines was well below the Jaguar Pride's radar and outside their sphere of influence as a place for the spiritually-minded, so they had a few days to review the list included in the request. They were general items—small munitions, fabrics, blank flexis, and others easily located and purchased without the rousing of local suspicion.  
  
Beka asked any of the monks if they had received news of a group of Wayists providing relief to plague victims on a Dragan slave world. They informed her that although the Nietzscheans resented what they viewed as unnecessary pampering of their slaves, they tolerated the Wayist presence, so the human population would not be decimated—and therefore become useless as a labor pool. They assured her that the mission was proceeding peacefully and successfully but couldn't give her even an estimate as to when her crewmate would return.  
  
Beka wished Rev were there so she could confide in him about her confused emotions: her alternate apprehension and desire to see Tyr again. He wouldn't condemn or judge her for falling for—and letting onboard—someone she barely knew, a Nietzschean at that. The thing about Rev, she realized, wasn't that he doled out advice like a talk-show therapist but rather that he guided her through the gamut of her own turmoil until she knew what was right for /her/.  
  
She missed that, but she found herself growing even closer to her reduced crew. Trance especially was still mysterious, but everything important about her Beka felt she knew: her compassion, good-will, and love for all living things. She saw Harper bonding with the purple pixie as well and thought with a smile that opposites must truly attract. The girl's innocent and sweet nature would undoubtedly have a good effect on the emotional scars the young man carried with him.  
  
Beka actually spotted a Jaguar Nietzschean showing a flexi with her picture on it to a Wayist monk, who fortunately feigned ignorance, the day she decided to depart from the drift. The final days before the extraction, they practiced their mission in the docking bays of Lexington Drift—a place with unpleasant memories of Bobby Jensen but also was notoriously hostile toward Nietzscheans. Jaguars would have to be very determined to venture onto Lexington in small numbers, and the entire system would know of their coming at least a day in advance if they brought a fleet.  
  
Mostly her crew practiced the extraction itself, but when they interacted with drift inhabitants, Beka practiced Aricia. Part of her didn't like treating people like the unworthy dirt under her feet, but she had to admit that it was nice to hold a little power, especially over cowards who would steal the shirt off the back of a girl like Trance if they could. It also made her laugh—she wasn't rich or a powerful political figure, but if she acted like one, she was treated as one. That said, she ultimately decided that she would rather be a little guy and respected than a ruler affectionately described by her subjects and friends alike as the Demoness.  
  
In stories, the day of the extraction would've dawned bright and clear or cloudy and drizzling, depending on the tale's end. On a drift, though, days never dawned; someone just turned up the lights. Beka liked that—not entrusting her mood to chance differences in the weather. She had forbidden Harper from drinking himself into a hangover and all of them from staying up too late… not that she had slept much, but at least her body was able to rest, even if her mind wasn't.  
  
Harper was a little grumpy, but breakfast with a side of Sparky perked him right up. Beka's stomach belt jumpy, but she forced down a full meal of coffee, pancakes, and bacon. Trance seemed almost to vibrate with energy, though whether she was excited, nervous, or both, Beka couldn't tell.  
  
When they boarded the Maru, Beka transferred command to Harper, then deftly manipulated the ship's computer banks, so no one would learn that he had only recently acquired command capabilities. As soon as they entered, Trance asked Beka if she could go check on her plants really fast. Beka shrugged and let her go look in on her babies before she joined them in the cockpit. Only a few minutes passed, and then Trance took her station the captain for the day.  
  
Grimacing, Beka hid herself in the dank cargo pod, in a subtly-hidden enclosure usually reserved for smuggled goods. She hated to think that traces of Flash probably still remained on the walls. In almost complete darkness, Beka felt the jolt of the Maru detaching from the dock, then her engines come to life and lift the ship out the hangar. Harper handled her ship more than competently, but Beka could feel tiny lurches that bespoke less than perfectly expert handling that only a person who'd spent years on the ship would notice.  
  
The slip route was rather long but well-traveled enough that a first-time slip pilot had a good chance of successfully negotiating it. Harper was surprisingly good at slip-piloting for someone who'd grown up and spent the majority of his life on a planet. Their first meeting was the first time he'd ever been more than two stories off the ground. Most people restricted to planets for the first decade plus of their lives never really got the feel for slip-piloting, but Harper had been intent to leave Earth for good, and that meant learning to live in space.  
  
/Not that he comes close to the slipstream mastery of a Valentine/, she thought with a laugh. Then she felt the ship leave the slipstream and shift back into normal space. She couldn't recall her own first slip, but she did remember Harper's. Hearing about slipstream was never enough to prepare a person for that first slip. The skinny, blond kid's eyes were bulging, and after he shook himself back to life, had gulped and chuckled nervously that was they said was true—slipstream wasn't the only way to travel faster than light, just the only way.  
  
Beka couldn't hear the port authority clear Harper to land, but she felt he slip slow down and stop, then the clamp of the dock on the Maru's hull. A timer had just started, one that would end with a reunion with Tyr and rendez-vous with the Duchess of the Damned… if everything went well. 


	24. For a Brief, Shining Moment, Seamus is C...

Chapter the Last (though 'tis not the tale's end)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You're cleared to land, Captain Harper," a bored voice informed him. He couldn't help but grin. "Hear that, Trance?"  
  
Trance giggled. "Good thing he didn't actually have to meet you. He never would've believed you."   
  
"Ha ha. Come on, we both know I /exude/ a commanding presence which none can resist. You're just jealous cos no one's ever called you Captain Gemini."  
  
Trance's eyes twinkled. "How do you know?" With that, she left the cockpit and began unloading the supplies.   
  
Harper sighed. "Well, I got my fifteen minutes. Now time to enjoy being captain for the next…two and a half hours."   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Trance briefly checked on Beka before she began unloading crates, and as expected, she was fine, if a little disoriented. So far, nothing untoward had happened, but there was a lot of time left where something /could/ go wrong. Her senses were sharper than usual as she constantly searched for strange and dangerous currents in the energies swirling around people. Some of the others in the open-air hangar hummed with dull anger, others with impatience, but no one seemed outright violent.   
  
As she struggled with a particularly heavy crate, a couple of dock workers noticed and approached her, asking if she required any assistance. With a relieved smile, she admitted that she did and introduced herself. At first, the two humans, who called themselves Lysira and Kleois, helped her without speaking further.   
  
Now it was time for Trance to execute her part in the plan. Beka had told her how important her role was; she was to gauge the attitudes of the common people, to see how much support the rebels had in them and how they would react to Aricia's sudden flight. If she saw that they sympathized with the rebels, she would have to warn Beka. And if anyone suspected Trance herself of siding with the wrong people, events could quickl.y turn ugly for her and her friends.  
  
"So, who is all this stuff for? I guess he must be pretty special to have so many ships that work just for him." She donned the mask she used most often: the cute, ditzy alien girl who loved to chatter. People warmed up to that girl even if they found her a little annoying at first—and most of all, they let things slip that they would prefer to keep private around a stranger.  
  
The two humans glanced at each other. Trance looked innocently at them as she filed that away; it seemed that they feared speaking their minds in a place so near Aricia's home. The woman answered her. "It's for our leader, the Duchess Aricia."   
  
"Oh, okay. Wow, Aricia. You know, you all have very pretty names here."  
  
Kleois grunted as he set a crate of gauss pistols down hard. "Uh, thanks. I've never heard your name before."  
  
That, of course, was the problem with being purple and sporting a tail. "Really? I hear it all the time. Of course, they're usually dancers, and not the ballet kind." She affected a confused expression and smiled inwardly to see that the other two were biting back amused grins.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I can see that," Kleois responded. "If you don't mind me asking, where're you all from? Most of Aricia's suppliers are regulars."  
  
Trance was ready for this one. "Oh, we just wander around a lot, getting jobs whenever people need us. I think one of your regulars bought a farm or something, cos we got and unexpected call just a couple of days ago to deliver some stuff. You know, we're not very rich, but people usually trust us. I guess that's because the captain is a really trustworthy guy." She almost giggled aloud at her description of Harper. Well, in his own way, he was very trustworthy, but most people didn't see him that way.  
  
Lysira nodded. "Hey, that's what's important, Trance. I mean, if you're someone with a lot of power… well, all that power isn't going to help you if you don't keep your promises." Kleois shot her a warning glance, and she subsided.  
  
Trance pretended not to notice her sudden silence. "Yeah. Cos then people might get mad at you and fire you. I know sometimes we've been hired because someone else didn't keep a promise, even if our employer knew that person for a long time." She tried to lift a weighty parcel and made a visible show of her effort.   
  
Kleois deftly took the crate and set it lightly on the ground. "Too bad that's not how it works everywhere."  
  
Trance cocked her head to one side. "What do you mean? Why would a bad worker get to keep his job if he didn't do it right?" She was careful not to look too closely at either human or keep eye contact for too long. This was just casual conversation with the talkative purple girl.  
  
Lyrira shrugged. "I don't know. It's doesn't seem fair, does it? That person might have friends who didn't care how well she did her job as long as she kept helping them." Trance noted the use of 'she'. They were definitely talking about Aricia. She decided to ease up on the questions for awhile until one of the others brought up the subject again. The three were quiet for just a moment before the human woman spoke up again. "But if she's only helping a few people and hurting a lot, the people she's hurting might want to… to fire her. I'm not saying it's a good idea for them to fire her, but I can believe that they would want to, and I would understand why."   
  
Trance made a noise of agreement, and Lysira continued. "But maybe it would be a good idea. Like you said, Trance, the best worker should get the job, not the most powerful." Trance ignored the fact that she had said no such thing. "I mean, what's so wrong with that? If only the bad worker would realize that she was hurting people and that those people are important too, she might… resign. But what if she doesn't? And what if she keeps hurting people because she can't do her job? Can those people… make her resign and then… show her what she's done wrong? Maybe… maybe they should, if she's hurting so many. I think a lot of people would think so, don't you?" She shook her head. "But I don't agree with the people who want to hurt her for hurting them. That's too much. She should know what she's done wrong… but she's hurt so many. I don't know if she should be…" her voice trailed off.   
  
This saddened Trance. She didn't like to think that she was helping someone like that, a dictator with no concern for her people… but then, she would always look at both sides of a story before passing judgment. "I don't know," she said softly.   
  
Kleois dusted his hands off. "Well, that's everything. You can get an anti-grav cart over there. After someone comes to inspect it, you can bring it to the quartermaster's desk at the far side of the bay." He coughed. "Come on, Lysira."  
  
Trance waved. "Bye, guys! Thanks for your help!" She hastily found a cart and shoved everything in it, then returned to the Maru.. She entered the now-empty cargo pod and knocked on the wall that hid Beka. "Beka?"  
  
A moan answered her. "Ugh… do I get to leave yet?"   
  
Trance opened the cleverly-made lock and stepped in. She wrinkled her nose at the condition of the tiny room. It was ventilated, of course, but dust and a musty odor pervaded the air. "Sorry, Tyr's not here yet. But I did talk to a couple of the people." She looked earnestly at her captain. "Be careful, Beka. I don't think they'll actually hurt you, but I don't think the people here like Aricia very much. She hasn't been doing her job very well, and a lot of people think she should give up her post."  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow. "Well, isn't that what she plans on doing?"  
  
Trance shook her head. "I… I don't know. The people I talked to, they seemed mad at her. Lysira said that she should learn what she's done wrong. I'm not sure if they mean punish her, but I don't think they'd be happy to learn that she's just going to run away. I heard her talking about 'people who want to hurt her for hurting them', too. She probably meant the rebels. They definitely have the sympathy of a lot of people, even if they completely agree with them."  
  
Beka frowned. "Huh." She was quiet for a minute as she digested this information. "Okay. Thanks, Trance." She muttered to herself that Tyr had better be a damn good bodyguard.  
  
Trance opened her mouth to say that she bet he was when they both heard pounding footsteps entering the pod. Beka laughed quietly. "Speak of the devil."   
  
Tyr nodded at Trance, then shifted his glance to Beka. He took her hand and kissed it. "Precisely on time," he said in low voice. "I'll be back soon."  
  
Trance studied him surreptitiously as he riffled through the full cart. She couldn't make out his mood at all; he was focused solely on the task at hand and allowing nothing to distract him. When he had seen Beka, though, she did sense a slight vibration around him, something outside that laser-like focus. Futures were converging, and the perfect outcome was still possible, but so much could happen that she didn't dare relax her guard just yet. He directed her to the quartermaster's desk and disappeared back into the cargo pod.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Beka didn't realize she had been holding breath after seeing Tyr again until she felt her chest constricting. She exhaled and laughed nervously to herself. /See, Beka, he did come back./  
  
He returned shortly, and this time it wasn't her hand that he kissed. He pulled back and held her by her shoulders for a little while, as if memorizing her features. That, she knew, was never a good sign, but the moment was over so quickly that she thought she must have imagined it. He smiled down her and bowed. "Ready, your Highness?"  
  
She lifted her head proudly. "Don't rush me, Anasazi. I'll be ready when I'm ready and no sooner." She paused. "I'm ready." She swept grandly out of the pod and into the Maru's main section. Just before she entered her quarters to change, she turned and imperiously addressed Tyr. "And do not even /consider/ asking me when I'm ready. Rudeness makes me very angry." When her door slid shut behind her, Beka grinned. This /was/ kind of fun.   
  
She changed into a much more regal outfit of bronze satin, applied the eye make-up Aricia seemed so fond of and put in brown contact lenses, and donned more ostentatious jewelry than she usually chose to wear. Then she chose one of her own outfits and folded it into a small bundle, which she handed to Tyr, along with her identification, when she stepped out of her quarters. As the final touch, she willed her hair black, and scrutinized her appearance in one of the Maru's few clean, shiny surfaces. "It wouldn't fool the woman's mother, but the lowly commoners won't know the difference."  
  
Tyr led her to the palace, looking appropriately intimidating. A few rotten vegetables flew near her, but none hit, and after drew his gun, only whispers marked their procession through the crowds.  
  
They entered the palace. "Your Majesty," Tyr said deferentially, "a merchant desire to speak with you. I believe she calls herself Rebecca Valentine."   
  
Beka sighed dramatically. "And tell me, Anasazi, why I should wish to converse with some money-grubbing trader? You know how they annoy me." Men and women uniformed like Tyr straightened sharply when they saw Beka but carefully kept their eyes from meeting hers. She smiled. They probably hadn't needed those contacts after all.   
  
Tyr nodded. "Indeed, your Majesty. May I say, however, that Miss Valentine is one of your strongest… and wealthiest supporters. It would behoove you not to dismiss her like a common supplicant."  
  
Beka's lip curled in disdain. "I don't recognize the name, but who does have time for these businesspeople, anyway? Very well, show me to her." A pair of guards began to follow her, and she whipped back around. "Alone! I will see Miss Valentine alone! After my most recent /troubles/ with my bodyguards, I would feel much safer with a /stranger/ than my formerly trusted associates. Only Tyr will accompany me." Acquiescent murmurs answered her demand.  
  
She sighed when they were out of the guards' hearing range. "So far, so good. Now to meet the Demoness herself."  
  
Tyr's lips twitched in a near-grin. "It won't reassure you to know that your impression of her was perhaps a bit subdued."  
  
The Nietzschean opened a pair of tall, wooden doors into a beautifully decorated chamber where a single figure sat, tapping her foot impatiently. Beka's instincts told her she had to get the upper hand right away, or this woman would walk all over her. "Get up. Tyr, wait outside." He slid from the room without a word. "Now, get dressed."  
  
Aricia's eyes flew open, and she opened her mouth to protest. "Uh-uh. Nothing. Keep it shut, and we'll get along fine. Remember, you're the /mere/ Beka Valentine, and I'm the Duchess Aricia, famed and feared throughout the system." Aricia's lips compressed into a tight line, but she kept quiet. Beka shoved the bundle into her hands and turned her hand to allow the duchess some privacy. After a few minutes, she turned back around and looked Aricia up and down. "Good. It's too bad we can't change your hair completely, but I bought some hair mascara and scissors, so at least we can give you that rebellious, reckless pilot look."   
  
At this, Aricia could not keep silent. "You wish to cut my hair!? I will not-"  
  
"Live to see your next birthday? Gee, I was just thinking that. Now sit down and shut up before I do something regrettable." Rolling her eyes, Beka set to the task of cutting and coloring the other woman's hair. She wasn't much of a hairstylist, so the cut came out a little uneven, and the color was erratic. Just the look she was going for. She pursued her lips. "Perfect. Do you remember what comes next?"  
  
Aricia pouted. "Yes. I get to yell at you."   
  
"Right. Now when we leave, try not to slip into bitch mode. /I'm/ the maniacal, powermad ruler outside these doors, not you. Oh, and I'd better tell you where you're going. After you flash Tyr's security badge, the quartermaster will direct you to the Maru, which is parked in the corner of the bay farthest from the entrance. She's… an older ship and kinda beat up. There should be a purple girl with a tail standing outside, waiting for you. Got it?"  
  
Aricia made a face that looked like she smelled something unpleasant. "A tail? What is she, a monkey?"  
  
Beka glared. "You're closer to the monkey than she is… but that would be an insult to the species as a whole. You call her /anything/ other than Trance again, and you'll suffer a mildly debilitating accident aboard the Maru which will leave you confined to the Med Bay for the entirety of the trip back, and we have a very small Med Bay."  
  
Aricia's eyes glittered. "How /dare/ you address me as such, you /miserable/ trader?! I will have your respect or I will have your life!"  
  
Beka smirked back at her. "Uh-huh. Too bad there are a lot of people outside these walls who value that life of mine, and a lot less who could give a damn about yours. It's kinda sad, really, that you've only been in power for a few years, and already the people hate you. You must be incredibly incompetent or… just a flaming psychopath."  
  
"I will /not/ permit you to take such a tone with me and leave here unscathed! You think your common little friends will help you? Ha! /I/ have friends whose sole purpose in life will be to punish you, everyday, for the disrespect you have shown me!"  
  
Beka's nonchalant response further infuriated the duchess, and they continued for a good ten minutes in this fashion. Finally, Beka tapped her wrist, signifying that it was time to go. Aricia's jaw clenched, but she nodded curtly. She stomped to the door, then stormed out. Tyr rushed in, handed her his security badge on the sly, and was followed by three more guards. He barred their entrances, purportedly not to upset Aricia—but in fact so they wouldn't realize that she wasn't actually Aricia.  
  
"Your Majesty, what has happened?"  
  
She screamed for the others to leave her alone, that she didn't want to talk about it. When she and Tyr were alone again, made a face. "That woman is pure, unadulterated evil."   
  
He smiled. "That, your Highness, is what your people would call the understatement of the century."  
  
"Yeah. So now we get to wander around this place aimlessly for two hours, avoiding any close encounters. Got any suggestions?" This would be the riskiest part of the plan—Aricia was well-known to be paranoid about her security, so her bodyguards would soon become suspicious if they knew she was only guarded by a single person. And if they were suspicious, they might come to question her, and if they saw her too closely before Tyr revealed her as a fraud, the entire scheme would be derailed.  
  
He did, and they stealthily avoided most of Aricia's security team. They had a little scare when the captain of her guard ran across them and demanded to know why she was protected by one guard—and a new one, at that. Beka exclaimed that she wanted to be /alone/ right now, that a certain merchant had greatly upset her, and that she was /trying/ to get this Anasazi brute off her back, but that he refused to let her out of his sight. The captain nodded approvingly at Tyr and left without a word to contradict his duchess.  
  
Beka glanced down at her wrist unit. The digital time display turned from black to red, and she knew it was time to finish the mission. "All right, Tyr, time to make me look a little less Aricia-like and to denounce me as a conspirator in a treasonous plot, blah blah blah." She removed her contacts and jewelry, then turned her hair a dark brown. With a wink, she took off running down the hall.  
  
"Stop her! Stop that imposter!" Tyr shouted from behind her. He caught up with her after an embarrassingly short period and wrenched her arms behind her back. Half a dozen security officers came skittering around the corners, all talking at once and insisting on knowing the situation. "She's impersonating the Duchess, though why I have not yet discovered. I last saw Aricia after she left her meeting with the trader Rebecca Valentine, and I noticed that the Duchess was furious, but Miss Valentine was oddly calm and cool, quite unusual after an encounter with her Majesty. I believe this-" he jerked one of her arms for emphasis, "-is Rebecca, disguised as Aricia. If you permit me, I will take her for interrogation."  
  
The others muttered about lax security but assented. After all, they didn't want to be held responsible for any security breaches, and if Tyr was the one who confronted her with the imposter, she'd likely blame him—and leave them out of it.  
  
Tyr half-marched, half-dragged her to a small, windowless interrogation room with a single table in the middle and two chairs. He shoved her into one, then shut the door behind them and asked her in a low voice if he had hurt her.   
  
She shook her head. "I'm fine. So let me guess, they'll be expecting another shouting match from us?"   
  
"That's how these interrogations usually go. You should feel fortunate that no one felt you should be tortured, and if you start sobbing loudly and proclaim your guilt and remorse, they won't."  
  
Beka checked her computer's clock. "All right, we got… forty-five minutes left, so that gives you half an hour to convince me to admit my wrongdoing and beg forgiveness."  
  
Anyone listening outside would've thought their performance authentic. Tyr pounded the table and yelled at her, and for a while, her responses were the smug barbs she'd used on Aricia, then she started shouting back, and then she dissolved into tears. The actual words were inaudible through thick concrete walls, but the general gist of the proceedings was easy enough to catch.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Tyr led a seemingly repentant Beka Valentine out of the cell. Her eyes remained fixed on the floor, and her face was tear-stained. She slouched in Tyr's grip and refused to answer any of the questions directed at her. Tyr explained that she had been plotting to abduct the Duchess, who was currently about her cargo ship, the Eureka Maru. He casually asked if anyone wanted to volunteer to accompany him, but the other guards avoided his eyes and said they were busy. Beka struggled to keep a grin off her face.  
  
He hauled her out of the palace and through the landing bay. Beka almost broke into a run at the sight of her ship but managed to maintain her listless appearance until the inner doors open. Then, she did run.  
  
"Trance, Harper, is Aricia here?"   
  
A wide-eyed Harper was the first to greet her. "Hi, Beka. Uh, yeah, she's here. I mean, unless there are two of 'em running around."  
  
Beka grimaced. "Divine save us from such a fate."  
  
The three of them entered the cockpit, where Aricia was languishing in the pilot's chair, and Trance was doing her best to studiously ignore her. Beka's eyes tightened. "Out of my seat. Now. And I hope you remember what I told you about that accident."  
  
The young woman rose and, though her posture was regal enough, her eyes seemed to somehow avoid meeting Beka's. "I've been perfectly respectful towards your crew."  
  
Harper choked. "Respectful? I'd like to throw you in the human ghetto, and see what the Dragans think of your respect!" Out of the corner of her eye, Beka could see Tyr suppressing an amused grin.  
  
Beka laid a hand on his shoulder. "Harper." He subsided. "Listen, I'm in charge here. My turn to play dictator. So you're going to be Little Miss Sunshine until we drop you off if it kills you. Capice?"  
  
Aricia nodded sullenly. "I understand."   
  
"Good." Beka climbed into her pilot's chair. "Time to get the hell outta Dodge. Harper, are we cleared to depart?"  
  
The young man took his place at a console. "All signs point to yes."  
  
Beka strapped herself in. "Hang on, guys." She tapped one of the panels in front of her, and the dock unclamped its hold on her ship. She lifted it smoothly up and away from the landing bay until they were out of orbit. They would've arrive at the slip point for several minutes yet, and there didn't seem to be any immediate danger from angry rebels or security, so Beka set the ship on auto-pilot and rose from her chair.   
  
Trance was staring off into space with a curiously intent expression, as if working out a complex mathematical formula in her head. Aricia stood awkwardly in a corner, trying to look imperious and respectful at the same time and failing at both. Tyr lounged near his console, and Harper was studying his attentively.   
  
Something beeped. "Aw, crap!" Harper cried. "Boss, you'll never guess."  
  
Beka groaned. "Give me three."  
  
"It's the—hey, wait! They left, just like that. Hey, that's not fair!"  
  
Beka joined him at the sensor display. "The T'dalimar?" She carefully looked over the data at the brief blip of activity. "It must have been… but they just disappeared." She glanced up. "I… guess that's a good thing. I mean, that they left?"  
  
Trance's head whipped to face the pair, and Aricia was attempting to listen in on their conversation without appearing to do so. Beka and the others were too busy trying to decipher the meaning of the strange and disconcerting occurrence to notice Tyr pulling something from the vest of his uniform.  
  
Aricia was the first to see him. "Captain Valentine," she screeched, "what's going on here?! I swear, I never called your crewmate /anything/?"  
  
Beka looked up impatiently. "What, do you think we-" Her voice died as she took in the scene in front of her. Aricia's face was bloodless, and her knuckles were white where she grasped a bar. Her eyes were trained on Tyr, who had drawn a menacing gauss pistol and now aimed it at her.   
  
No one said a word until Tyr broke the silence. "It was the T'dalimar. They were to serve as a… reminder of my purpose aboard this vessel and a warning."  
  
Trance moaned softly, and Harper lunged forward. Beka grabbed his wrist, and he jerked backward. "Harper! Stay with Trance—I think she's going to faint." His normally roguish expression twisted with hatred, he finally stepped back and turned to check on the elfin girl. "Aricia, don't… say… a thing." The ruler nodded wordlessly and tried to make herself as small as possible.  
  
Beka held still. "Your purpose?" She swallowed. "Care to share with the class, Mr. Anasazi?"  
  
When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. "I was hired by the Chichin to prevent the escape of the Duchess. Instead, I was to ransom her… and he didn't want to share the money. I was supposed to execute you after Aricia was on board; no one was to know of his role in the kidnapping."   
  
Beka felt her head spinning. "Then… it sounds like such a bad cliché," she laughed raggedly. "… then it was a lie. You were a lie. Everything I fell…" her voice cracked, and she stopped.  
  
Tyr nodded slowly. "It was a lie." He smiled softly, and as if from a great distance, Beka heard the sound of his weapon firing up. "And then it was a dream." 


	25. The Epilogue, With no Mention of Harper

Epilogue:  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
That night, Beka awoke in a cold sweat. "Weird," she breathed to her empty room. "Too weird." She stood up and ordered the lights to low illumination. She stumbled to a sink and splashed cold water on her face, trying to chase the remnants of the dream from her brain. It had been unusually detailed and upon examining it… it made sense. Her dreams never made sense when she was awake. And she would've sworn under oath that what she had seen was real if she didn't logically know that it was impossible. She never /had/ worked for a Chichin Miyk Orbedon dia Toladre Eron. "But Beka, you almost did," she whispered. "If Harper hadn't drunken himself into a stupor that night and you hadn't had take Gerentex up on his offer…" she shivered.  
  
Without quite knowing why, Beka padded her way through the Andromeda's corridors until she arrived at Tyr's door. She paced back and forth for several minutes, then took a deep breath and chimed the doorbell.  
  
"It's open," a deep male voice intoned from inside.  
  
The door slid open, and Beka walked in, still unsure of her motives. "Um, hi, Tyr. Just wondering what you were doing… at three-thirty in the morning. I didn't wake you, did I?"  
  
Tyr shrugged. "Whether or not you woke me, I'm quite definitely awake now. What did you wish to speak to me about?"  
  
Without invitation, Beka sat in the Spartan chair near an easel. In any other circumstances, she would've wondered what a guy like Tyr painted, but all she could think of now was her dream. "Oh, well, I was just curious if… you've ever heard of a, uh, species called the T'dalimar?"  
  
Tyr looked mildly surprised and leaned forward a little, obviously interested. "In fact I have. And I must confess to being somewhat astonished to learn that you know the name."  
  
Beka forced a chuckle. "Yeah, isn't it, um, funny? Hey, what about a guy named Miyk Orbedon dia Toladre Eron?"  
  
Tyr's interested glance changed into a piercing gaze. "A Chichin, if I'm not mistaken. Beka, how do you know of these people?"  
  
Beka's ran over the neat, sparsely decorated quarters. "The same way I know about a woman named Aricia, ruler of the Merriam-Webster system. I wonder whatever happened to her…" She paused for a moment as her mind wandered down another mental path. Then she noticed Tyr's eyes locked on her and shrugged uncomfortably. "You know, probably just stuff my unconscious picked up and decided to barrage with me while I sleep."  
  
He looked incredulous. "Are you telling me you /dreamed/ of the T'dalimar, Miyk Eron, and this Aricia?"  
  
"I told you it was funny. But I'm serious—I thought they were just names my brain made up, but it seemed so real… and I had this bizarre compulsion, like I had to know whether it was true." She tried to laugh off her solemnity. "But it's not the first time I've had a dream like this. You wouldn't believe what I dreamed about Dylan's best friend, the guy who tried to kill him. You know, Gaheris Rhade?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Notes:  
  
All right, finally I get to reveal my inspiration for this fic! It all started when I was watching /Sabrina/, the Audrey Hepburn version. I thought to myself that it would make a great fic, to replace Linus Larrabee with Tyr and Sabrina Fairchild with Beka. But how, I asked my muse, would I do so? The basic premise of Tyr manipulating Beka to fall in love with him for an evil purpose of his own was possible but the exact plot wouldn't work in the Andromeda-verse, not if I wanted to keep the same basic time of the series. So I got to thinking how I would write such a story… and this was the result.  
  
Tyr's line at the end of the last chapter comes directly from Harrison Ford's version of /Sabrina/. Being the Audrey fanatic that I am, I must say that I prefer the original, but I can't bring myself to slam Harrison—the remake is very good, but I think the original is just better. It's like comparing desserts.   
  
I hope you all enjoyed my fic, and after I attempt NaNoWriMo, I'm going to attempt yet another! Tune in, read, and review!!!  
  
Thanks for reading and sticking with me! *hugs, gold stars*  
  
Oh yeah, and I realized that, for some reason, there is only one space between most sentences. This is very odd, for I know I typed in two. Probably the aliens. 


End file.
